


Devour

by gothboobs



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Biting, Incest, M/M, NSFW, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Violent situations, slight blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothboobs/pseuds/gothboobs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Morty AU - Dimension F-212 : Rick is a world-famous chef, owning his own exclusive restaurant and widely known for some of the best food in the galaxy. Morty is a young, talented, prodigy chef, making food that is so delectable it inspires powerful emotions in those who consume it. Rick takes Morty under his wing as his apprentice, and between crazy ingredient-hunting adventures, and long, hot days in the restaurant kitchen, Morty develops a crush on his selfish, chain-smoking, gorgeous chef grandfather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chef's Apprentice

Thick slices of acorn squash lined the oiled baking sheet in haphazard rows. Morty slathered generous spoonfuls of honey on top of the vegetable slices before sprinkling sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper on top. He slid the tray into the oven and bumped it shut with his hip before leaning over the stove to stir his chicken marsala and sniff delicately at the steam. 

“Morty, ohh my god it smells so good in here.” Summer and her friend strolled into the kitchen from doing homework in the other room, and Summer appreciatively inhaled the aromas filling the small warm kitchen. 

“When’s dinner?” 

 Morty scooped up some of the curry with a spoon and offered it to Summer as he held his hand beneath the food. “N-not for another forty minutes…but would you like to taste?” 

Summer eagerly clamped her mouth around the bite offered and closed her eyes in satisfaction as the flavor burst onto her tongue in waves of decadent, spicy perfection. She instantly felt energetic and lively and opening her eye she grinned down at her little brother. Morty’s cooking wasn’t just delicious, it was so good it inspired powerful emotions with the very first bite. 

 “Morty, me too!” Summer’s friend pushed Summer aside and clapped her hands together, “My brother is gonna be so jealous when I tell him I had your food for dinner tonight!” 

 It’s true: Morty Smith was locally known for how insanely good his cooking was to the point that people regularly begged for invitations to their house just to eat the home cooking of Morty Smith. He had won contests, been featured in local news stories and even offered special chef internships, but Morty had a different dream job in mind. 

Bustling through the kitchen, just home from work, Beth rubbed Morty’s shoulder affectionately as she sniffed the food and smiled, “Mmm, Morty, smells great.” She chewed her lip nervously, “Is it alright if we have one more guest tonight?” 

 Morty frowned, “Mom I-I-I don’t know, Summer, and Courtney are here too, so I guess it depends who…I’ll have to make another place setting and make sure I have enough dark chocolate and black cherry mousse to—” 

"It’s your Grandpa Rick. He’ll be over around 6:30.” 

Whirling to face his mother, Morty’s eyes burned with interest, “Rick, is coming!?” 

 “Yes, he called just—oooh!” 

 Morty shoved his mother out of the kitchen, clucking his tongue, “Mom, out-out-out-out, I have to prepare!” 

With his mother out of the kitchen, Morty retied his bandana around his forehead, breathed deeply and sprang into action. Annoyed that he hadn’t been warned earlier of Rick’s future arrival, Morty rushed around the kitchen at a fever pace. Rick almost always waited until the last minute to announce he would be joining his daughter and her children for dinner. 

Rick’s visits used to be a lot more infrequent when Jerry was around, but after Beth and Jerry’s divorce several years ago, Rick had begun to visit more often. It wasn’t until Morty discovered his incredible knack for cooking when he was in middle school that Rick began asking to come to dinner more often, increasing his dinner frequency to once or twice a month, but never establishing any sort of pattern much to Morty’s consternation. 

 Morty wiped his brow with his forearm and sighed as he quickly whipped up a spinach and artichoke salad, not that it was exactly Rick’s fault…Being the famous master chef of the most exclusive intergalactic restaurants in the universe had to be a busy job. With the food mostly complete, Morty laid a pale yellow table cloth down, and arranged the plates and utensils with care. He placed crystal water glasses beside each plate (a birthday present from his mother) and placed crystal serving dishes in the center of the table. 

The oven timer dinged and Morty rushed to take the acorn squash out of the heat, setting them on the counter to rest as he turned the heat down on the chicken stew and flipped the spinach salad one last time. As he began to transfer food to the table, and fuss with the presentation, he could feel his heartbeat begin to race with anticipation. 

Hopefully everything looked good enough…if only he had more time to prepare for— 

"Morty—” 

“Mom, give me just oooone second, I have to—” 

 “But Morty—” 

“Please!” Morty spooned curry into a large serving bowl as he threw a frantic look over at his mother standing in the threshold. “I only have a couple minutes to finish getting ready before—” 

 “Ahem.” 

Hearing the unmistakable rasp of his grandfather behind him, Morty nearly dropped the serving bowl, but maintained enough composure to finish scooping and turn around with a smile on his face and the bowl cradled in his palms. Rick was leaning against the opposite doorway with his arms crossed and his bright blue eyes darting around the room in careful perusal. 

 “Hey Ri—” 

"What is the wine selection tonight?” 

 “I’ve chosen a bottle of dry chardonnay from New Zealand with notes of citrus and mel—” 

 “Dessert?” 

 “Dark chocolate and black cherry mousse with—” 

 “Thank you.” Rick straightened and stalked over to the table where he glared at Morty’s place settings silently. “As u-usual Morty, your settings are unorganized at best and chaotic at worst. The crystal glasses are nice, but you’re only using them to draw attention away from the fact that you’re mixing two sets of silverware.” 

“ _Dad_! God, give him a break!” Beth furrowed her brow at her father, but Morty turned and glared at her unexpectedly. 

 “Mom I’m fine, he’s teaching me!” Glancing up at Rick, Morty pulled a chair out at the head of the table and gestured, “W-would you l-like to sit down while I get you a glass of wine, Rick?” 

Slumping into the chair, Rick reached out and grasped Morty’s elbow as the teenager started to walk off. Stopped in his tracks, Morty felt a flush start in his cheeks as he looked down at Rick’s stern face. 

 “Wipe your face before you come back.” 

 Morty rolled his eyes, “Okay.” 

Beth snorted at the exchange, but Morty ignored her and left the kitchen to get the wine from the basement. Rick raised his eyebrow over at Beth, “Y-y-y’know I’m not too hard on him, Beth.” 

 “Dad, Morty is good. He’s great!” 

 “It’s just sloppy, raw talent, Beth. He needs to refine it.” 

 Beth rolled her eyes, “Food isn’t everything dad.” 

 “Correct. Science is.” 

 She had a sharp retort ready but at that moment Morty sailed back into the kitchen, having somehow switched his tank top for a fresh one, washed his face and returned with a cold bottle of white wine in five minutes. 

He walked straight to Rick and hovered politely beside his right shoulder, “May I?” Wordlessly, Rick picked up his glass and held it aloft for Morty. Uncorking the bottle, Morty splashed a small amount into the glass. Rick brought the cup to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he let the scent fill his nostrils and linger against the back of his tongue, before he tossed it into his mouth, savored briefly and swallowed. 

 “Mmm.” 

Morty shifted on his heels as he watched Rick’s mouth twitch as he considered the flavor. Did he not like it? Holding aloft his glass again, Rick turned his fierce eyes to Morty as he calmly intoned, “Good. However, I hope you have planned a sweet element of tonight’s meal to balance the dry undertones of this wine.” 

 A soft, breathy gasp slipped out of Morty’s mouth and he quickly shut his mouth again in embarrassment before giving a curt nod and filling Rick’s glass, “I-I-I’ll g-go g-g-get Summer.” Turning to his mother he held the wine forward, “Mom, can I pour you a—” 

 “Just give me the bottle and get your sister.” 

“O-Okay!” Beth rolled her eyes and filled her wine glass to the brim. Her son’s stupid little “chef crush” on her father would be fine if her father didn’t take advantage of it. Whenever he came to the house, Morty dropped everything and would wait on Rick hand and foot, blushing and stuttering like a lovesick first grader while Rick cussed and drank and ate and lectured Morty on cooking techniques before dragging Morty outside to stand with him while he’d chain smoke cigarettes and lecture Morty some more. 

 Waltzing back into the kitchen with the girls, Morty beamed as he said his favorite words: “Dinner is served!” 

 The food was magnificent. Rick was having a hard time maintaining his scowl. Morty’s food over the past couple years had been getting better and better, but this…this was incredible. Bringing his napkin to his face pretending to wipe food away, Rick grinned like an idiot into the cloth. Fuck, Morty’s food was utterly delicious. 

Placing the napkin back in his lap, Rick abandoned pretences and attacked his food with a little growl of delight. He needn’t have worried as everyone else around the table, bent their heads to the task of ravenously tearing through stewed meat, sweet and salty squash, dry wine, and juicy salad. 

* * *

“Beth, honey, I need to ask you for something.” 

It was hours after dinner. Morty was curled up on the couch playing his 3DS while Rick and Beth sat on the loveseat and passed their sixth wine bottle of the night back and forth trading sips. 

 “Yeah, Dad?” 

 Rick leveled his electrifying gaze at his daughter, “I want Morty to come work at the restaurant.” 

 “YES!!” 

Beth’s eyes flashed to her son who had leapt up from the couch, 3DS in hand, face flushed and twinkling eyes. 

“Mom, Mom, I would come home every Sunday and w-w-well y-you know I have to work on holidays, because those are major for restaurants, and I’ll call every single day—” 

 “Morty, no-no-no-no-noooo.” Beth grabbed the wine bottle from her father and scowled, “Dad he’s sixteen.” 

 “Mom, please.” Morty was standing in front of his mother with his hands clasped beneath his chin trying to look as pathetic as possible, “You would have let me go on those internships if I had wanted!” 

 “W-well, yeah…” Tilting the bottle back, Beth swallowed more wine before pinching the bridge of her nose and stammering, “D-d-dad you’re so demanding and hard on Morty!” 

 “Beeeth,” Rick reached over squeezed his daughter’s knee, “C-c’mon you’re breaking my heart. You know I’m not mean, just strict. You just wanna baby him.” 

 “Because he’s my baby!” 

 “Oh my god, Mom!” Morty leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, “I l-love you Mom but you know I gotta do this.” 

 Beth handed the wine bottle back to her dad and threw her arm around Morty’s neck, yanking him against her chest in a slightly drunk hug. “Every Sunday, plus birthdays, plus every so often just come home and surprise me.” 

 Hugging her back, Morty nodded against her shoulder, “I promise! Don’t worry I won’t stay away.” Disentangling himself from his mother after a few moments, Morty whirled on Rick and demanded, “When do we leave?” 

 Rick snorted and took a long sip from the wine bottle before glaring up at Morty, “F-fuck off, Morty, y-you know that when I come for dinner, afterwards is my bonding time with your mother.” 

 Morty huffed, “Bonding time? You guys just sit there and get sloshed on a dozen bottles of wine and then rant in Spanish at each other.” 

 “Dooon’t you talk to your grandfather that way, young man.” Beth grabbed back the bottle and gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Why don’t you go pack.” 

 “Oh, that’s actually a great idea!” 

As Morty ran off, Beth scooted closer to her father and leaned against his shoulder. The stale, burnt smell of cigarettes mixed with the sugary scent of buttercream frosting wafted from his clothes and she smiled at the familiar scent. “Just…promise me you won’t be an ass all the time.” 

 Rick threw his arm around his daughter and sighed, “Okay, okay, jeez, Beth, I promise I will hug him once in a while.” 

 “That’s all I ask.” 

 By the time Morty finished his frantic packing, Beth was passed out on the couch, and Rick was swaying back and forth, portal gun in hand as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Morty. 

 “R-r-reelch-ady, Morty?” 

 “Should I wake Mom or Summer up to say goodbye?” 

 Rick shrugged, “Sunday is three days away, it’s not like you’ll be gone long.” Shooting his portal gun at the wall, beckoned with his finger and turned toward the glow, “Time to go.” 

 Feeling his heart thudding in his ears, Morty nodded, grabbed his bags, and marched through the portal after Rick. Pushing through the elastic-y boarder of the portal, Morty found himself inside Rick’s apartment for only the second time in his life. 

The smell of marshmallows, frosting, and chocolate assaulted Morty’s nose and he wrinkled his nose in surprise at how strong the aroma was. Cakes and cupcakes and pastries lined almost every surface of the cavernous kitchen. Gigantic whiteboards lined the walls beneath cabinets and stood on stands, covered with notes and measurements. It was half French bakery, half mad science lab, and Morty could only stare and salivate. 

 “H-hey, wanna –uurp-try something?” Rick was carrying cakes in his arms and briskly walking over to Morty as he puffed on his newly lit cigarette. Setting the cakes down on the counter, Rick pulled out a fork, loaded it up with a gigantic piece of pink frosted yellow cake and stared pointedly at Morty, “C’mere!” 

 No need to say it twice—Morty practically ran to Rick’s side, with a smile, “Yeah I wanna try!” 

 Rick held the fork forward and Morty opened his mouth wide before chomping down on the soft cake. Strawberry and raspberry flavor washed over his tongue with a violent rush. Morty’s eyes widened and a muffled squeak escaped him much to his surprise and embarrassment. Rick nodded and raised his eyebrow haughtily. “Enjoy it. T-tomorrow is your first day in the kitchen and it’ll be hell, Morty.” 

 Swallowing, Morty grabbed the fork from Rick and picked up a cake, “Are you gonna eat cake too, or…?” 

 Rick found another fork and picked up a cake of his own, “So the cake you’re eating right now as the concentrated flavor of five or six extremely sweet strawberries per slice.” 

 Morty nodded vigorously, mouth full of pink cake, and frosting stuck to his lips. “Mmm-hmm, con-fin-yuu.” 

 “And mine,” Rick removed his cigarette and stuffed his face with cake “iff carah-mel bacon whii-choc-late cake.” 

 Morty gazed at Rick as he chewed his cake, and sighed happily at the dawn of a brand new adventure.


	2. Forbidden Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimension F-212: Rick takes Morty to a strange grove of fruit trees to find and harvest a rare ingredient. Unfortunately for Morty, he eats some of the fruit raw, which turns out to contain properties similar to truth serum!

The kitchen was hot as hell and Morty grimaced as he felt his sweat-damp tank top stick to his chest. It had been just under a year since he came to work in the restaurant with Rick, and although he had learned more in a year than he had in his entire life previously, he was still stuck as a line cook.

Chopping vegetables and prepping food endlessly without getting to do more fun things was boring, but at least Rick let him cook at the apartment to his heart’s content. Pausing with the knife in his hand, Morty shook his head slightly to dislodge a few curls from his forehead. Maybe tonight he would make scallops…he had been craving seafood and scallops were one of Rick’s favorites. A little blush spread across his face as Morty thought about the grouchy old chef –

“Morty!”

Nearly dropping the knife in surprise, Morty looked up to see Rick near the front of the kitchen beckoning him with a harried look on his face.

“Yes chef?”

“I n-need your help with something. C’mon, let’s go.”

As Morty moved to put away his knife, Rick snapped his fingers, “Ah-ah-ah, bring that with you.”

“My knife?”

Rick rolled his eyes and walked back out of the kitchen as he talked over his shoulder, “Time to go, Morty, c’mon.”

Sheathing his knife, and taking off his apron, Morty waved at the other line cooks who looked on jealously as he headed off after Rick. The morning air was crisp and cold. The breeze was heaven against Morty’s sweaty skin and he stretched appreciatively as Rick lit a cigarette. They’d both been awake since 6 am, and this was the first time since arriving at the restaurant that he had been outside.

Inhaling deeply, Rick blew the smoke away from Morty and took out his portal gun. “O-okay, we need to be back soon to finish prepping for tonight, so let’s make this quick.”

He opened a portal and strode confidently through the swirling green hole as Morty hurried after him. They walked out together into a vast open field of peachy-pink grass, dotted randomly with short, gnarly trees. Hanging from the branches were pale pink fruits shaped like huge cherries. The orchard was sweetly fragrant, and Morty smiled at the sweet scent.

“Where are we?”

“This-this is a veri cherry grove, M-morty,” Rick tapped the ash of his cigarette and stuck it back in his mouth as he began walking through the trees. “The-the-these cherries, Morty, taste a little like champagne, but sweeter, and they make just an  _incandescent_  jam.”

Morty followed close behind, staring at Rick’s ass while they walked, “So, is my knife for cutting the fruit off?”

Pausing at a tree particularly laden down with the fragrant fruit, Rick unsheathed his own knife and smirked, “Nope, for the spiders.”

Before Morty could respond, Rick reached up and grabbed the closest cherry he could reach. The moment he touched it, a mammoth spider the size of Morty’s head darted out and hissed. Rick calmly sliced the creature in half with his knife while Morty shrieked in surprise behind him.

“Oh jeez—oh jeez, oh jeez, Rick, th-th-those look pretty dangerous!”

“Of c-course they’re dangerous Morty, why’d you think I told y-you to bring your knife?” Rick was already done with cigarette number one and he lit a second before opening up a bag and dropping the first cherry inside. “We-w-w-we gotta fill this bag up and head back to the restaurant Morty. We’re making a very special dish tonight. The Zikkx twin princesses are dining at  _Taste of Infinity_  tonight.”

Morty nodded as he walked up to his own tree, “Yeah, I already memorized the menu.” Taking out his knife, Morty gingerly tapped a cherry and winced as he waited for the spider. As expected, the aggressive arachnid darted out with a hiss, and swiping hard, Morty sliced the spider in half, gagging as he caught a whiff of the guts that spilled out.

“Yeah, don’t get that shit on the cherries.” Rick had already picked six cherries in the time it took Morty to get one, “It ruins the appearance of the skin.”

“Alright,” Morty dropped the cherry in the bag between them and cautiously looked up at his next target. Beside him Rick was efficiently plucking and slicing in between long drags of his cigarette. As he reached up for a particularly high fruit, Morty unconsciously licked his lips as Rick’s shirt rode up slightly revealing his abdomen.

Lost in his staring, Morty didn’t notice the spider creeping along the side of the fruit he had chosen to pick until he heard the loud hiss beside his ear.

“MORTY!”

Leaping over the bag of cherries, Rick swiftly grabbed Morty from behind and pulled him into his chest as he reached forward and slashed the spider before it could bite.

Catching his breath, Morty looked up at his grandfather to thank him, but withered in the presence of Rick’s pissed off glare.

“Pay attention you little shit! These spiders a-are venomous.”

“S-sorry, Rick.”

Releasing him and returning to his tree, Rick spat out his finished cigarette and stuck a third in his mouth, “Don’t be sorry, be alert.”

“Yes, sir.” Morty hated it when Rick yelled at him, which admittedly was frequent. Finding another fruit, Morty plucked it and sliced the spider as it appeared, trying to emulate Rick’s graceful movements. He was clumsy, but after a few more tries, he began to get the hang of it, and perfected his own efficient technique.

They filled the bag in a little under an hour, and plucking one last cherry, Morty shook his knife hand out to relieve the soreness of gripping the handle too tightly. Rick looked over the cherries in the bag and nodded, “Let’s get going, they’re probably wondering where we are at the restaurant.”

Bringing the beautiful fruit to his mouth, Morty smelled the sweet aroma, “These are okay to eat raw?”

Without looking at his grandson, Rick chuckled, “Yeah, they’re safe to eat, but you have to cook them to get rid of the—”  

“Uh, whuff?”

Rick turned to see Morty with his mouth stuffed full of fruit with juice dribbling down his chin. The cherry in his hand was already half-eaten and Rick shook his head in exasperation, “…you have to cook them to get rid of the iqiniso.”

“I-it won’ hurff me will it? Morty’s panicked eyes darted from the cherry in his hand to Rick, but Rick seemed unworried, if bemused.

“No, but you’ll have to answer questions truthfully until the sap works through your system.”

Swallowing, Morty frowned, “What!?”

Rick picked up the bag and opened a portal, “The cherries produce iqiniso sap when they’re ripe. It’s commonly used as a truth serum.”

Morty’s stomach did flip-flops as he followed Rick through the portal. “Oh man Rick,  ev-every question?”

Back in the alleyway outside the kitchen, Rick whirled on Morty with a raised eyebrow, “What is the dumbest thing you’ve done since coming to work here?”

Morty paled and slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from answering, but Rick leaned forward and snatched his hand away from his mouth as a torrent of embarrassment spilled out of the teenager, “When I had to pan sear the salmon steaks before they were plated at the front I accidentally caught my shirt on fire, and I grabbed a cup thinking it was water inside but it was fish sauce and I poured it all over myself before I realized my mistake.”

“HA!” Rick shook his head as he laughed at Morty who was quickly flushing bright red, “Idiot. B-b-better avoid talking too much tonight, M-morty.”

As Rick headed inside, Morty sullenly followed along, terrified of what truths he would be forced to reveal tonight.

“Rick what the fuck, stop taking my line cooks I need them to prep!” Ahmed the sous chef was glaring at Rick from over the steaming pots of food and shaking a spatula in his direction.

Shrugging, Rick dumped the cherries onto a nearby table and pointed at Morty and a few of the other younger chefs, “Start cutting. I need the pits removed and the fruit sliced into finger-width pieces; and Ahmed, don’t make me come over there and tongue you down for your insubordination.”

Ahmed puckered his lips at Rick and flipped him off as Morty tucked his head down and started cutting. He hated it when Rick flirted with the other chefs. The line cook beside him noticed his scowl and nudged him with his elbow, “Hey Mort, you cool?”

“I don’t like it when Rick flirts with Ahmed!” Morty smacked his juice-covered hand against his mouth in shock.  _Fuck_ this was going to be a long night.

“Haha, that’s pretty weird, dude.”

Morty silently thanked god that they were too busy for his friend to pay more attention to what he had just said and instead focused on chopping up the damned cherries that got him into this mess.

Once the restaurant opened, the hot, noisy kitchen became even busier, and the majority of questions Morty was asked dealt directly with the food he chopped, sautéd, boiled, peeled and mashed. In the center of the action, Rick and Ahmed shouted orders at other cooks while they perfected plates to go out to guests on the floor. Despite the illustrious guests in attendance, the night went relatively perfectly, and as it began to slow down, Rick began calling over line cooks one by one teach them how to cook with the cherries.

Morty tried to busy himself with other tasks, but after every line cook had been called, he waited uncomfortably for his turn to come.

“Morty, c’mere.”

Morty’s heart lurched at the sound of his name in Rick’s mouth and hurried over to his grandfather’s side, “Yes chef!”

“Watch me carefully,” Rick had a hot pan over the fire with simple syrup simmering over the heat. Picking up a handful of the cherry slices, Rick gently slid them into the liquid and after they were submerged, he began carefully and slowly stirring the pan. “Y-y-you gotta be gentle with these, Morty.” Rick reached out and taking Morty’s shoulder in his hand, dragged the teenager closer to his side, “Look, look, see how pink the color is? If-if you aren’t careful with the fruit, they bruise, and when they bruise Morty, they-th-they turn a re-re-really horrible orange, and it wrecks the flavor profile.”

Stepping backward, Rick dragged Morty to stand in front of the pan and handed the spoon off to him, “Stir gently, and make sure the fruit remains submerged. I-it’ll float if you don’t watch it.”

Morty accepted the spoon from Rick and began to carefully mix the fruit, all to aware of Rick’s presence directly behind him. Overpowering the smell of fruit and sugar and even the cooked meat in the kitchen, the sour, harsh smell of old cigarettes and Rick’s cologne filled Morty’s nose and raised goosebumps across his arms.

“Yeah, just gently tap them down a bit.” Rick stepped closer to Morty, and closing his hand over Morty’s hand on the spoon, moved in languorous circles as he taught his grandson how to cook the cherries correctly.

Rick’s chest was pressed softly against Morty’s shoulder blades. His warm hand completely enveloped his small fist. His body heat was hotter than the fire of the stove. Morty’s heart began to race at the close contact and his breath shuddered as he tried in vain to focus on the task.

“M-morty, hey, focus. Don’t get too rough with the fruit.” Rick frowned down at the top of his grandson’s head, what was wrong with him? Usually he was a faster learner than this. “Why aren’t you focused Morty, what are you thinking about?”

The second Morty heard the question he mentally prayed to the universe that a black hole open up directly beneath him and swallow him hole as his mouth opened and he answered unwillingly with a rush of words, “I’m thinking about how nice you feel behind me, and how much I want to turn around and push you down and kiss you in front of everyone and how much I want you to fu—”

Rick reached around a clapped a hand over Morty’s mouth even as Morty continued to chatter, any further confessions muffled by Rick’s palm. When his mouth finally stopped moving, Rick moved his hand, and began to help Morty stir again.

Morty’s heart was in his stomach. He thought he would die from shame, but Rick continued to calmly instruct him as if he hadn’t just admitted to the perverted fantasy of making out with his own grandfather on the dirty kitchen floor.

When the cherries were done cooking, Rick showed Morty how to plate, and then sent him back to food prep. Morty avoided Rick for the rest of the night until the restaurant closed. As Rick went out for his customary cigarette and glass of wine out in the back with Ahmed, Morty dragged his feet through cleaning up his station, dreading the ride home in the flying saucer. Finally done, Morty slouched as he walked outside just in time to see Rick giving Ahmed a friendly wave goodbye as the sous chef got into his car and left. Spotting Morty, Rick flicked his almost-done cigarette away and walked over to the flying saucer with his grandson. Once inside, Rick couldn’t help but snicker at Morty’s woeful expression.

“What’s wrong?”

Morty wanted to sullenly answer ‘nothing,’ but with the sap still churning through his veins, he told the truth, “I’m embarrassed I admitted that stuff to you earlier.”

Rick raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Morty, “So how long have you had a crush on me…?”

Morty covered his mouth with his hands, but even muffled by his fingers, the words still escaped, “Since I was thirteen.”

Rick whistled, “Ah, I was off by one year.”

“You  _knew_!?”

Shrugging, Rick looked over at Morty beside him and smirked, “You aren’t exactly good at hiding it.”

Arriving home, Morty followed Rick inside and as was their routine, they headed to the kitchen where Rick poured two glasses of wine and offered the second to Morty. “So three years huh? L-l-long time to have a pervy crush on your old-ass grandfather.”

Morty felt his face flush red, “S-sorry…” he brought his nightly wine glass to his lips and drank deeply. Tonight was definitely a good night to get drunk.

Rick sat down at the table and raked his fingers through his hair, “Hey Morty, cook for me?”

The request was a simple one, but every time Morty heard those words from his grandfather, his heart skipped a beat. Rick may not admit it, but he loved Morty’s food, and every time he requested it, Morty secretly hoped he was falling in love with more than just Morty’s skill as a chef.

“Y-yes chef!” Rushing around the kitchen, Morty got the scallops out of the fridge, and began whipping up a simple entre.

Rick watched as Morty slim form sashayed around the counters. Despite having endured a grueling day of nonstop work in a hot, busy kitchen, Morty was as energetic as if he had been sleeping all day just  _waiting_  to cook for Rick. Sipping his wine, Rick smiled to himself, maybe Morty had been waiting all day.

“Morty?”

Without turning, Morty answered promptly and cheerfully, “Yes chef?”

“Have you jerked it thinking of me?”

Morty’s hands stilled in his preparations for the briefest of moments before he answered quietly, “I always think of you when I jack off.”

Rick let his gaze wander down Morty’s back to check out his ass in the tight jeans he insisted on wearing. “…What’s your favorite f-fantasy, Morty?”

A few muffled grunts emerged as Morty clearly tried to shut himself up with his hands before the truth once again forced itself out, “My favorite fantasy is you slathering frosting in my ass and licking it up before you bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me so hard I walk funny in the restaurant the day after.”

Whistling, Rick let his hand wander down to his crotch where he gripped it gently and readjusted the growing boner. “Wha—”

“Dinner is served!” Morty, red faced and flustered rushed over to the table carrying two plates of steaming scallops with rice noodles and bok choy. Spotting Rick’s dwindling wine glass, Morty reached over and poured more wine in, overfilling it until it nearly reached the brim.

Taking back his glass, Rick gazed at Morty as the teenager avoided looking at him, “A-are you trying to get me drunk, Morty?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m hoping you’ll pass out soon so I can go to my room and die of embarrassment.”

Rick delicately cut a scallop in half and sniffed deeply, enjoying the heavenly scent, “Wouldn’t you rather come to my room?”

“Yes I would!” Morty clapped his hand over his mouth again and scowled at Rick, “Okay Rick y-y-you’ve had your fun, stop asking me questions! Y-you don’t need to tell me how perverted I am, I already know!”

Taking his first bite, Rick had to concentrate hard on not moaning as the flavor hit his tongue. A wave of unmitigated lust slammed into him with that first taste and he gripped the side of the table as he chewed. Swallowing carefully, Rick looked up at Morty who was watching him with interest. Chuckling, Rick ate another bite, “Morty are you trying to seduce me with this food?”

“Yes.”

Rick laughed out loud at Morty’s naked yearning and quickly finished his dinner. Standing up from the table, he gulped the rest of his wine and picked up his plate as he walked over to where Morty was seated.

Rick took Morty’s empty plate from the table and after putting both plates in the sink, he yawned and stretched, looking over at his grandson with a dangerous smirk, “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah, I’m sleepy.”

Rick lead the way upstairs as Morty followed, but as Morty turned to go to his room, Rick reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him over to fall against Rick’s chest.

“R-rick!”

“D-didn’t you say you’d rather come to my room?”

Morty’s eyes widened and he grasped Rick’s shirt in his hands, “ _Yes I did_ ”

“Go get changed and then come back.”

Morty sprinted to his room as Rick walked back to his with a smile on his face. The little slut barely needed convincing. Stripping off his clothes, he changed into a wifebeater and shorts just as Morty politely knocked before entering.

His grandson was dressed for bed in flannel shorts with pictures of bacon on them, and a matching purple t-shirt with a grinning pig and the phrase “Don’t go Bacon my heart” right beneath it. Rick rolled his eyes, what a fucking nerd. He sat down on the bed and beckoned Morty over. Morty came and stood between his spread legs as Rick glared up at him.

Morty was almost beside himself with nervousness. Rick’s piercing gaze wasn’t helping either. Reaching forward, Rick wrapped his arms around Morty’s middle, and Morty tumbled into Rick’s lap with a little gasp of surprise, which turned into a yelp of shock as Rick cradled Morty’s face in his hands and leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” When Rick broke the kiss, Morty flung his arms around his neck and kissed him back, feeling Rick’s lips curve into a smile beneath the juvenile assault 

“Slow down, honey. I’m not going anywhere.” Rick leaned back onto his bed, dragging Morty with him until they were stretched out side by side. Morty was grabby; the inexperienced teenager grasped Rick’s shirt impatiently, trying to tug it off with one hand as his other grasped the back of Rick’s neck.

Rick took Morty’s hands and held them firmly in one of his as he broke the kiss and drew Morty closer to him.

“Slowww…” With Morty’s hands trapped, Rick began to pepper kisses against Morty’s jawline and neck, sprinkling sharp little bites among the kisses, enjoying Morty’s impatient whimpers.

“Riiiick—”

“Mmm?”

Morty arched his back and groaned as Rick found his ear and bit down hard. “Rick, pleeeease—”

“Shush.” Rick released his ear, but snaked his hand down Morty’s body, dipping beneath his shorts to grab his ass through his boxers.

Even with the thin fabric separating them, Morty could feel the heat of Rick’s hand against his skin and he gasped with need, trying desperately to rub his boner against Rick’s thigh. “Rick, ahh! Rick!”

Finally releasing Morty’s hands and ass, Rick wrapped both arms around Morty and hugged him tightly to his chest, covering his mouth in a possessive, demanding kiss. His tongue bullied Morty’s as his grandson panted into the kiss and tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair.

When Rick finally broke the kiss, Morty gasped for air, and pressed himself against Rick, shaking and needy.

Staring down at the quivering, gasping messs of a teenager in his bed, Rick chuckled softly before turning Morty around and hugging him tightly to his chest, laying his head down on the pillow. “Good night, Morty.” He felt the teenager stiffen against him, and Morty tried to turn back around, but Rick held him firmly, spooning him aggressively as he buried his nose in Morty’s curls and kissed the back of his head. “Nooo, I said g-good night. Time to go to sleep.”

“Rick!” Morty wriggled in vain and huffed, “I don’t want to go to sleep! I-I-I th-thought we-we-we were g-gonna—”

Rick reached down and cupped Morty’s boner in his hand deftly squeezing it’s length before releasing it and returning to cuddling. “Behave yourself. Good night Morty.”

Huffing again, Morty wiggled and looked over his shoulder at Rick behind him, “Good night kiss?”

Leaning in, Rick pecked Morty on the lips and forcefully turned his head back around as Morty opened his mouth and tried to pull Rick in for a longer kiss. “ _Morty._ Good night.”

“Alriiiight.” Morty snuggled down into Rick’s bed, closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Rick’s warm heat behind him. Maybe for breakfast he would make waffles. Waffles were one of Rick’s favorites…


	3. Preheated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimension F-212: Morty is finally allowed more responsibility in the kitchen...but is he ready to handle it? How will he deal with Rick's verbal abuse when he makes a mistake?

When a huge hand smacked onto Morty’s shoulder he nearly jumped a foot in the air.

“Ch-chef! Yes chef?” 

Ahmed grinned down at Morty and pulled him away from the chopping board where Morty had been slicing fat off of tender cuts of beef. “It’s your lucky day, Morty. Someone called out, so you’re off line prep and you’ll be cooking and plating today.”

Morty’s mouth dropped open at the news. He had been waiting for the chance to actually cook for months now, he could barely believe it was happening. “Y-yes chef!”

Rubbing his shoulder affectionately, Ahmed nodded, “I think you’re ready for it, but I want to make sure you think you’re ready too. Can you handle the responsibility?”

Morty squared his shoulders and nodded with a serious expression, “Absolutely, chef! I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good to hear it.” Directing Morty over to his new station for the night, Ahmed walked Morty through some general tips, and then left to finish giving directions before the restaurant opened for the night.

Morty winced when he heard the doors for the kitchen slam open and Rick’s heavy footsteps stomped inside. It had been about a month since he had eaten raw very cherries and confessed his feelings for Rick, but besides that one amazing night of kisses and cuddles Rick hadn’t acknowledged Morty’s crush or even touched Morty besides occasionally grabbing him to steer him in another direction in the kitchen or saving him from danger on a random ingredient-finding adventure.  For the most part, everything had returned to normal and it drove Morty to distraction.

It’s not as if Morty didn’t  _try_. His jeans had gotten progressively tighter, he found reasons to brush up against Rick’s crotch in their kitchen at home, he tried to emulate a seductive voice when he said Rick’s name…all of it ignored.

“M-morty, care to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

Turning to look up into the fierce glare of his grandfather, Morty tried to furrow his brows and look just as stern, “Yes chef, Chef Ahmed moved me from line prep to line cook.”

“Why?”

“S-someone called out, chef.” Morty was trying to be confident and calm but Rick had a way of making him distinctly feel each and every insecurity.

Luckily, Ahmed noticed the exchange and trotted over to rescue a very nervous Morty, “We had someone call out, chef. Morty can handle this.”

Rick’s eyes never left Morty’s face. He leaned in and raised his eyebrow, “Fine; b-but I’m not treating you any different,  M-morty, do you understand me?  I expect and d-d-demand  _perfection_ , nothing less.”

“Yes, chef!”

Glaring at him for a moment more, Rick straightened up, “Get back to work and don’t fuck up.”

“Yes, chef!” Morty turned back to his station and lowered his eyes. Ahmed blessedly tugged Rick away, and Morty exhaled in relief. The boost of confidence he had been feeling at being chosen had wilted in Rick’s scorching condescension and he had to grit his teeth to focus back to the task at hand.

“Woo! Morty’s plating tonight!”

A smile spread across the teenager’s face as he recognized the friendly voice of Leona beside him. She was a curvy bipedal alien with deep violet skin, long emerald green hair and four inky black and green eyes that tended to each look indifferent directions at once. A young, but thoroughly experienced chef, Leona often counseled and assisted the younger line cooks, and Morty was delighted she’d be working the station next to him.

“Haha…y-yeah…” Morty tried to smile but failing miserably, he sighed, “So-so-sorry Leona, I’m p-pretty nervous.”

Leona looked over at Rick with one of her eyes. Sure enough, Rick was at the other end of the kitchen glaring at the both of them as he moodily sautéd peppers. With another eye, Leona glanced at Morty and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Morty, everyone in the kitchen knows you have amazing talent. Don’t let the head chef get to you just because he’s your grandfather.”

Looking up at Leona, Morty offered a genuine smile, and even chuckled a bit as all four of her eyes pointed in wildly different directions, looking around the kitchen, “Thanks Leona…”

“Anytime!” Leona bumped her hip against his and winked as Rick ‘ahem’ed’ loudly in their direction and yelled at them to get back to work.

All too soon the restaurant opened and the kitchen activity shifted into overdrive as the orders began pouring in. Morty fumbled a bit on his first plate, which Leona was able to swoop in and assist him with, but after that minor hiccup, Morty held his own on the line with the rest of the chefs.

Rick and Ahmed were tough chefs and required immaculate attention to detail. When a chef a few stations down from Morty overcooked chicken, Morty grimaced as he listened to Ahmed berate him for almost ten minutes and bent his head to his own station to be sure he didn’t similarly fuck up.

Unfortunately for Morty, kitchen work is never flawless, and while trying to juggle a pan full of sizzling mushrooms and a hot skillet with duck confit, he fumbled while trying to switch burners and accidentally sent his pan of mushrooms tumbling to the floor as he rescued his other skillet with his arm.

The edge of the pan sank into his forearm and burned horribly, but the adrenaline of the moment numbed the pain, and Morty quickly fixed the pan on top of the burner, switched the heat off and then dropped to his knees to begin cleaning up the spilled food.

“What the  _fuck_  was that!?”

Rick was at his side in seconds, fists on his hips, eyes flashing electric blue daggers down at Morty kneeling on the floor.

“I’m sorry, chef.”

“Sorry? Is-is-is sorry going to get the next plate out faster!?”

“No, chef.”

“Is sorry going to wipe my fucking floor up?”

“No chef, I am.”

“Damn right you are, you clumsy, butter-fingered, m-m-maladroit excuse for a chef!”

Morty stared at the floor with burning eyes as he tried to hurriedly sweep up the mushrooms and oil into a napkin to throw away. “Yes chef.”

“Do you know that we’re busy tonight?” Rick knelt down next to Morty on the floor so he could yell directly into his ear, “How far back is that mistake of yours going to push yo-yo-your plates, huh?   _My_ guests have to wait now because of your incompetence.”

“Yes, chef.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Morty swiftly finished cleaning and dumped the dirty remains of the food into the garbage and washed his hands off, “Yes chef.”

As Morty slid more mushrooms into the pan and began to re-make the mushroom sauté to the duck confit Rick loomed over his shoulder and snarled, “Do not fuck this next pan up, you little shit, we have guests waiting for their food.”

“Yes, chef.” Morty felt his face burn with a hot blush of embarrassment and his eyes prick with tears but he valiantly tried to focus on getting the mushrooms cooking while watching the duck confit carefully. Beside him, out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Leona’s eyes sympathetically gaze at him, as she silently cooked beside him.

“Y-y-you better not drop this next batch, Morty, or I swear to  _god_  you will not line cook again for a year.” Rick growled as he leaned over his shoulder and glared at his grandson’s preparations.

“Yes, chef. Understood chef.” The burn on Morty’s forearm was beginning to throb painfully, and combined with Rick’s awful scolding, he felt the tears prick behind his eyes and as he returned to cooking, he kept his head tucked down as a few hot, embarrassing tears rolled down his cheeks.

Rick finally tired of berating Morty and moved on to yell at someone else. Leona reached over and rubbed Morty’s back softly for a moment before returning to her own work. “Morty,”

Morty glanced over at his purple companion as she turned to him and smiled softly, “You’re okay, you’re okay. Finish the dish and then go stick your burn under cold water, okay?”

Morty nodded silently as he stirred his pan. It was taking all of his willpower to not break down into choked crying. He hated when he spilled food, because wasted food was the greatest travesty in his mind. To spill food in the restaurant and then be yelled at for it by Rick was horrific, and as soon as he finished plating the dish he was working on, he rushed to a sink to not just rinse his burn but to also save himself the embarrassment of shedding a few tears in front of everyone.

When he returned to his station, Leona flashed him a bright smile, and doing his best to return the smile, Morty bent his head to work again, and finished up the night strong, with perfect dishes every time.

When the restaurant finally closed, Ahmed turned on some upbeat music and everyone began talking and cleaning up the kitchen as Ahmed and Rick headed outside for their routine glass of wine and cigarette.

“Morty, let me check out your arm.”

Morty followed Leona over to a quiet area of the kitchen, and sat down on a chair as Leona carefully took his arm in her cool hands and examined the burn. It wasn’t a horrible injury, but a reddish, dark brown burn curved it’s way from the inside of Morty’s elbow nearly to his wrist, and the burning pain was harsh .

Leona applied some cool salve to the burn and carefully wrapped Morty’s arm with a light bandage as she smiled at him, “See? You survived, Morty.”

“Barely.” Morty tried to calm down as Leona’s soft hands gently cared for his arm. As he looked up at his coworker he relaxed as he gazed at her beautiful, smiling face.

Leona chuckled, “Next time it will be easier. Rick and Ahmed are tough, but you did great tonight.”

Morty shrugged and looked down, despite Leona’s encouragement, he couldn’t help but hear Rick’s hard words replay themselves over and over again inside his head. Leona must have noticed because her careful hands gently cupped Morty’s cheeks and raised his face to look into her eyes. All four eyes focused on Morty’s face as she leaned forward and affectionately rubbed her nose against his. “Morty, baby, it’s okay. You were awesome tonight, trust me when I say that.”

Morty blushed at her closeness. Leona was breathtakingly beautiful…how had he not noticed before? As he opened his mouth to thank her for how sweet she had been, Rick suddenly appeared beside them, eyes wild with jealous anger.

“If you two are done…Let’s  _go,_  Morty.”

Winking at Morty, Leona nodded at Rick and walked off, “See ya tomorrow chef! Morty, hope that arm is okay!”

Rick grasped Morty by his good arm and practically dragged him out of the kitchen out to the flying saucer. Morty trotted along behind him quietly, and stared out the window on the ride home as Rick chain smoked several cigarettes one after the other.

When they got home, Rick stalked to the kitchen as Morty ambled along after him. Pouring himself and his grandson a glass of chardonnay, Rick turned toward the oven, “Are you hungry?”

“Y-yeah, a little…” Morty sipped his wine and watched as Rick smoked and cooked, whipping up homemade paella. The delicious aroma of shrimp, paprika, red peppers, garlic and chicken wafted around the kitchen, making Morty’s mouth water as he watched his grandfather work. Despite how horrible Rick had been in the restaurant, Morty couldn’t help but watch him with adoration. Rick was a impeccable chef, chopping, stirring and boiling with such effortless grace it was like watching culinary ballet. When Rick finally finished and turned around with perfectly-arranged plates, Morty was on his second glass of wine.

Setting the plate in front of his grandson, Rick frowned slightly, observing the sloppy bandage around his arm. “Is your arm okay?”

“Oh, uh…y-yeah…” Morty picked up his fork and turned his attention to the beautiful plate full of Spanish food.

Rick sat opposite him, and moodily watched as Morty tried a bite, lit up like a firework and proceeded to attack the food with gusto, almost driven to moaning with how much he was enjoying the food.

They ate in silence, drinking dry white wine and gobbling up spicy food as the night waned on outside. As Morty finished his plate, Rick picked up his own plate and taking Morty’s, he dumped them both in the sink before walking back over to where the teenager was seated. Rick dropped to his knees in front of Morty and held out his hands, “May I see your arm?”

Morty’s throat tightened at the sight of Rick at eye-level with him, kneeling before him. He held out his arm and avoided looking directly in to Rick’s icy blue eyes. Taking the arm in his calloused hands, Rick gently unwrapped the bandages and stared at the burn. The injury looked painful and the edge of the top of the burn where the pan had hit first was developing a small blister which Rick knew from experience would be extremely painful in days to come. Lifting the small arm to his mouth, Rick pressed his lips firmly right beside the burn to Morty’s undamaged skin, pressing a series of slow sweet kisses to the edge of the burn.

“Ahh—” Morty gripped the edge of his chair as the tip of Rick’s tongue flicked out and just barely grazed the outer edge of his burn. The pain was sweet and delicious and horrible, and even though Morty was trying very hard to be angry and hate his grandfather, Rick’s tremendous presence drove every other thought from his mind.

“Does it hurt?”

“A-a-a little…” Morty finally turned his face to look at Rick, and melted beneath the ferocious cerulean gaze.

Rick re-wrapped the injury more skillfully than Leona had, and with the bandage secure, he lifted Morty’s hand up to his mouth and brushed kisses against the knuckles.

“Ohhh…Riiiick…”

Rick looked up into the flushed face of his grandson and dropping his hand, stood up and gestured toward the stairs. “C’mon, we should get to sleep.”

Morty followed him up the stairs and as he started to walk toward his bedroom, Rick caught him by the shoulder and turned him around, “If y-you want…you can come to my room when you’re done changing.”

It was phrased as an option, but they both knew that Morty would rush through getting his pajamas on and sprint to Rick’s room immediately after, which is exactly what happened. Back inside Rick’s room, Morty slowly walked over and sat beside Rick on the bed. Leaning over, Rick cupped the back of Morty’s neck with his hand and deftly squeezed, kneading the tight muscle. “You’re okay, Morty.”

“I-I know…” Morty tried to be angry at Rick but he was gorgeous, he smelled like heaven, the wine was working its wonders and Morty felt warm and sleepy and infinitely relaxed.

Rick leaned close, so close that the tip of his nose just barely brushed Morty’s, “D-d-did you hate me today in the kitchen?”

“I—” Morty paused, and then threw his arms around Rick’s neck, pressing his lips against the old chef’s mouth in an unpracticed, desperate kiss. Breaking the kiss, but remaining close enough to whisper against Rick’s cheek, Morty felt his heart thud against his sternum as he breathily confessed, “I tried, but I can’t hate you, Rick.”

The tender affirmation shot right to Rick’s heart and wrapping his arms under and around Morty, he snuggled the teenager into his lap and covered him in kisses as Morty cooed appreciatively. Falling backward onto the bed, Rick dragged Morty with him and they stretched out next to each other, tenderly kissing as their hands roamed each other’s chests and shoulders.

Feeling his boner twitch between his legs and feeling bold, Morty reached his hand down and gently brushed his fingertips against Rick’s crotch only to furrow his eyebrows in surprise that Rick was completely soft. Rick laughed at his expression, and reached down too, grabbing Morty’s cock roughly and squeezing, “I’m-I’m not a teenager, M-morty, I’m not so easily a-aroused.”

Groaning at the contact, Morty thrust his hips forward into Rick’s hand, but chuckling, he pulled back his hand and scooted backward as he watched Morty with those devastating eyes. Morty reached out to him, but Rick evaded his grasp and shook his head, “Mm-mm. I’m not touching you anymore tonight, it’s time for bed.”

“ _RICK!_ ” Morty squirmed on the bed angrily, how could he do this!? “Rick you-you—w-why!?”

“Morty, we have an early morning, it’s time for bed.”

Morty balled the hand on his uninjured arm into a fist and after a brief hesitation, he punched Rick in the chest, “Y-you do this on  _purpose_  you asshole!”

Rick shrugged and pushed Morty’s hand away, “I said I’m not going to touch you, I never said you couldn’t take care of yourself.”

Morty’s eyes snapped back up to Rick in disbelief. Was he serious? Part of Morty wanted to jump out of bed and return his own room, but after a brief internal struggle, his own slutty neediness won out, and keeping eye contact with Rick, he pulled up his shirt to his chin, and slowly, slowly, slowly shimmied his shorts and boxers down until his boner sprang free and smacked him in the stomach.

Rick’s eyes darted down to Morty’s cock. For being just sixteen years old, he had impressive girth on him, and he was secretly pleased to notice his daughter Beth hadn’t had Morty circumcised. Morty reached both hands down to his dick and as one hand reached down to flutter his fingers against his balls, the other hand wrapped tightly around his shaft and jerked up and down purposefully.

Morty’s eyes flitted up to look at Rick. His grandfather was watching him intently, his blazing blue eyes flittering dangerously as Morty huffed and groaned on top of the blankets. The raw, perverted thrill of masturbating while being watched by Rick was  _delicious_ , and Morty closed his eyes in frustrated ecstasy as he jerked his cock and tried to imagine what Rick’s dirty, smoky mouth would feel around his cock.  

Rick clenched his teeth as he watched the teenager grunt with the effort as he violently tugged on his dick and tossed his head back and forth on the pillow, tangling his honey brown curls, cheeks flushed, and tiny beads of sweat springing up on the tip of his nose and his temples.

Feeling on the edge, Morty opened his eyes, turned to gaze at his grandfather in the midst of his heated passion, and gasped Rick’s name as he jerked one final time and shot cum across his stomach.

Leaning his head back against the pillow, Morty panted quietly for a few seconds before he started to get up onto his elbows to wipe the cum off. As he moved to leave however, Rick’s hand shot forward and shoved him back onto the bed. Manovering so he hovered directly over Morty, Rick kept his hand on Morty’s chest to hold him against the bed, and leaning down, Rick stuck his tongue out and lapped up the cum on Morty’s skin.

“Nnnghh—!!” Morty felt himself getting hard again as Rick’s hot tongue sloppily grazed against his stomach, licking up every drop of cum until it was clean.

Removing his hand from Morty’s chest, Rick flopped back onto the bed and licked his lips as he glared at Morty. “Pull your shorts up. Let’s go to bed.”

Morty pulled up his shorts as he matched Rick’s glare with one of his own, “Y-y-y’know y-you’re _awful_ , Rick.”

Rick’s arms darted forward and wrapped around Morty, yanked him to snuggle against Rick’s chest. Morty tried to abstain from cuddling, but Rick’s warm chest was so comforting and perfect, his willpower evaporated in seconds and before he knew it he was clinging to Rick and burying his face in his chest.

Rick rested his chin on top of Morty’s head as he braided his limbs with Morty’s in bed and held him closely as Morty sniffled and sighed pathetically into his chest.

“Patience, Morty. The most delectable pastries take the longest to prepare…”


	4. Al Dente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty pushes Rick too far and gets more than he bargained for.

Glittering gemstones dotted the inside of the cave and spread a kaleidoscope of colored light across the darkness of the cave as Morty followed Rick deeper into the cavern. 

Rick held the lantern high as he threaded a path through gem-covered sparkling stalagmites as Morty trotted along close behind, carrying a cooler filled with ice.

“Y-y-you’re gonna love these mood mushrooms, Morty.” Rick glanced behind him at his grandson, “The parasitic fungi of these-these caves feed off the carbon in the gemstones giving the mushroom caps a uniquely spicy flavor.”

Admiring the cavern walls, Morty looked up at Rick and smiled, “Yum!”

Rick stopped suddenly and cocked his head to the side. Echoing in the distance, thundering footsteps pounded back and forth above their heads. Continuing forward, Rick picked up the pace.

“Wha-what’s that noise, Rick?”

“Trolls. C’mon, let’s hurry and get what we c-came for, Morty. Those assholes are violent.”

Reaching a clearing in a much larger section of the cave, Morty gasped in awe at the sight. Hundreds of brightly colored, shimmering mushrooms sprouted from every available surface. Light from above ground filtered through the very top of the cave, bouncing off the gemstones and the mushrooms and filling the entire cave with gorgeous light.

Switching off his lantern, Rick turned to Morty to gauge his reaction. “Pr-pr-pr-pretty cool, huh, Morty?”

Nodding reverently, Morty kneeled, careful not to crush on any of the mushrooms and picked one. “How many do we need to pick?”

Rick picked an area not too far from Morty and knelt down, “Just fill up the c-cooler.”

They harvested the colorful fungi in silence, quickly filling the cooler before Morty packed it up again. The heavy footsteps in the distance sounded like they were getting closer, and Rick, antsy from needing his nicotine fix and nervous about the close proximity of trolls, began to hurry Morty back out into the darker tunnels of the cavern.

Sensing Rick’s nervousness, Morty grew paranoid and kept looking over his shoulder at the darkness as he followed Rick, “H-hey Rick, a-a-are y-y—”

The cave wall behind them suddenly crumbled with a terrifying crash, and Morty whirled around just in time to see the hulking form of a massive troll filling the entire cavern tunnel, covered in dust and seething with hostility.

Morty felt Rick snatch his hand, and the sudden touch was enough to jolt him into action, and holding onto Rick’s hand as if his life depended on it, he sprinted after his grandfather through the glittering tunnels.

“Ohhhh JEEZ Rick! A-a-a-are we-we-i-i-is th-that a tr-tr-tr—”

As if to answer his question, the troll barreled through the side of a cavern wall, and disappeared for a second, thundering through the cave, before crashing back into the tunnel directly before them with fists raised and a mouth full of drool and fangs hanging open. Rick skidded to a halt as Morty crashed into him from behind. The troll lunged forward, as Rick dodged and tugged Morty with him into another tunnel offshoot, but the troll was too quick and snagged Morty’s leg with his claw.

“RICK!”

Dropping the lantern on the ground, Rick turned and sprinted up the troll’s arm to its head, smashing his foot into its eye and tumbling down to the floor with the monster as it screamed and released Morty’s leg. Scrambling to his feet in the darkness, Morty grabbed and held aloft the lantern just in time to see Rick thrown against the opposite cave wall as the troll struggled to its feet.

“Oh jeez—oh-oh-oh—” As Morty panicked watching the troll advance on Rick who was scrambling to get to his feet, Morty looked up to the ceiling of the cavern for the first time and noticed the sharp stalactites hanging directly above the troll. He only had seconds. Gripping the lantern tightly in his hand he swung his arm around in a circle several times as he screamed as loud as he could—“H-HEY! OVER HERE!”

When the troll turned to look at Morty, Morty released the lantern and the heavy projectile swung up and perfectly smacked into the nearest stalactite, triggering a minor collapse and bringing down several hundred pounds of rubble on top of the unfortunate creature. They were now enveloped in complete inky darkness, and Morty felt a chill wash over him at how truly, and completely dark the cave was without any light.

“Morty!?”

Turning toward Rick’s voice, Morty’s eyes instantly spotted the tiny peek of light from Rick’s lighter, and picked his way over the rocks toward it, scraping his hands and knees on the sharp gemstones as he crawled and maneuvered through the debris. Reaching his grandfather’s side, Morty felt Rick’s hand reach out and pull him by the front of his shirt into a tight embrace. Looking up into his face dimly lit by the lighter, Morty breathed with relief, “Rick, y-y-you’re okay! I wa—”

Morty was silenced by a desperate, aggressive kiss as Rick held him tightly to his chest with one arm, and rummaged around his chef’s jacket with the other. Finding his portal gun, he opened a portal behind them and fell backwards into the swirling green vortex, pulling Morty with him.

Tumbling through the portal back into the apartment’s kitchen, Rick rolled on top of Morty and held him against the floor and kissed him hard, eliciting a squeak of pleasure from the teenager as he wrapped his arms around Rick’s middle. Pulling back, Rick cupped Morty’s cheek in his hand and stared into his eyes with a combination of worry, relief, and need. “M-morty—”

He kissed him again, his hands snaking across the teenager’s lithe body, pulling and grasping and grabbing as if he wasn’t sure Morty was real or not. With adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Morty moaned into the kiss, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the rows of buttons on Rick’s uniform, but as he reached the bottom, Rick suddenly pushed up and rolled off Morty, breathing heavy and patting his pockets until finding his pack of cigarettes he shook one out, jammed it in his mouth, lit it, and dragged hard, burning away almost a quarter of the cig in one inhale.

Morty shoved the cooler of mushrooms to the side, livid. “What the  _fuck_ was-was that Rick, huh? Y-y-you j-just—you g-get me riled up a-and then y-y-you—”

“Sh-shut the fuck up M-morty.” Rick exhaled smoke as he spoke and glanced over at Morty through the haze, “G-good job back there Morty, y-y-you did—”

“Y-yeah no shit!” Morty got to his feet, and glared down at Rick seated on the floor, “I-I-I saved your life Rick! Y-yeah! A-a-and now I’m gonna go and—I’m g-gonna go drink that-that bottle of chianti y-you’ve been saving for a special occasion because _fuck. You._ ”

Rick glared at Morty from his place on the floor, “Th-that bottle is older than you are, Morty, don’t you dare.”

But the teenager had already spun on his heel and was heading out of the kitchen. Rick heard the distant sound of the liquor cabinet being opened and rifled through and then Morty’s light footsteps hammering up the stairs. Finishing his cigarette, he flicked the butt across the floor, stuck another one in his mouth and lit it. “…ah fuck.”

Getting to his feet, Rick put the cooler on the table, put away his portal gun, and stripped off his chef’s jacket before heading up the stairs. He finished his cigarette on the way up, and dropped the butt over the landing to the first floor carelessly as he knocked on Morty’s door. From within, the surly teenage voice of a very annoyed Morty brazenly commanded: “Fuck off, Rick.”

Rick whistled as he leaned against the door, “ _Oooh_ , re-real tough, Morty. Open the door before I kick it down.”

Inside, Morty rolled his eyes as he uncorked the wine and lifted it to his lips; old ass man probably couldn’t kick a soccer ball, much less a—

Morty’s bedroom door splintered inwards with a series of earsplitting snaps and yelping in shock, Morty scuttled to his bed, wine bottle in hand as his grandfather forced his way into the room. Breathing heavily, Rick growled at Morty through clenched teeth, “Give me that bottle.”

Backing up against the headboard, Morty held the wine to his chest and stuck his tongue out, “Come get it, asshole.”

Rick worked his jaw as he attempted to stay calm, “You  _really_ don’t want me to come take it from you.”

Although his nerve was quickly deserting him, Morty doubled down, and after taking another long sip from the bottle he glared at Rick, “I’ve been w-wanting you to take “it” for months now, be my guest Rick!”

The subtext was not lost on Rick and he clenched his teeth trying desperately to remain in control. “ _Morty_ —”

Morty smirked as he raised the wine bottle once more, “Or maybe I should ask Leona…”

That did it. Rick stomped his way across the room, and reaching Morty on the bed, he lunged forward and grabbed the wine, roughly snatching it out of his hands and slammed it onto the nightstand. Clutching the front of Morty’s shirt he dragged the boy close to his face, as Morty winced in fear, “D-do you know how-how-how  _hard_ it is to control myself, Morty? How much I-I-I hold back a-around you so I d-don’t hurt you?!”

“I-I-I’m n-not scared, jeez y-y-you act like you’re dangerous or-or-or—”

Rick pushed Morty down to the bed and loomed over him, his eyes dark and wild, “I am dangerous, idiot.”

He leaned down and smashed his mouth against Morty’s as the teenager gave a muffled yelp of pain and surprise. Every kiss previously with Rick had been bruising, but sweet, with gentle little nips and a delicious tongue sliding in and out around his own; but this kiss was different. Rick captured Morty’s mouth with a kiss that was more teeth than tongue, as he possessively pushed Morty’s trembling shoulders firmly into the mattress.

The full pressure of Rick’s weight against his chest and the violent kiss he was enduring robbed Morty of most of his breath until, close to passing out he pounded at Rick’s chest with his fists until Rick abruptly pulled back, and got off the bed. Dragging air into his lungs, Morty rolled to his side and watched as Rick picked up the wine bottle and tipped it back, chugging the entirety of the almost-full bottle in one go. Tossing the empty bottle on the floor, Rick glowered at Morty, “Take y-your fucking clothes off.”

Morty protectively crossed his arms over his chest, “B-b-but—”

Rick pounced, and grabbing a fistful of Morty’s tank top, nearly tore it off as Morty protested half-heartedly. “Shut up. Y-y-you wouldn’t let me take my time and do it right, you impatient little shit.”

Morty squirmed beneath Rick’s dexterous fingers as he was unceremoniously and efficiently stripped. “W-w-wait! Wh-what do you mean ‘do it right?’”

“I guess you won’t find out now.” Rick paused to study the naked, blushing teenager beneath him, writhing on the sheets, cock standing at attention, goosebumps peppering his flesh. The burn on Morty’s forearm had healed, leaving a rosy pink scar as a reminder to be careful in the kitchen. Collapsing on top of his grandson, Rick wedged his face between Morty’s jaw and collarbone and bit down savagely, drawing blood.

“RICK, FUCK!”

“Mm- _hmm_.” Rick sucked on the wound, reaching down to palm Morty’s balls, “I’m going taste you, Morty.” Moving away from Morty’s neck, Rick ran his tongue down the hairless chest lapping at the bitter taste of sweat. “By the time I finish with you there will not be an inch of your body that I have not memorized with my tongue.”

Morty gasped at the promise and then again as Rick’s mouth arrived at his pelvis. The strong hands held his hips in place as Rick’s tongue slurped Morty from taint to tip, before he opened his hot mouth and took Morty’s full length in one go.

“Riiiiick—” Morty reached down to grab fistfuls of Rick’s hair in his hands as Rick’s tongue swirled around his shaft. It was a thousand times better than any of Morty’s wildest fantasies, and throwing his head back against the pillow, Morty groaned in delight and thrust his hips up into Rick’s face.

But instead of continuing, Rick released Morty’s cock and instead turned his face and chomped down on Morty’s inner thigh, drawing a loud shriek of pain out of his grandson who tried in vain to wriggle away.

“Wh-where are you going?” Rick looked up and glared at Morty, “I’m not even close to being finished.”

Morty frowned and tried to push Rick’s head back toward his crotch, “Nnngg…Rick.”

Grabbing Morty’s wrist, Rick bit the inside of his arm, and smirked as Morty moaned at the pain. “You fucking slut.”

He proceeded to ravage Morty’s bare skin with his teeth, biting every available expanse of skin as Morty trembled and wiggled and panted Rick’s name over and over again. Rick took pride in marking up the tender skin before him, smirking at the thought of people at the restaurant seeing bloody rings of tooth marks and bruises layered on top of each other, staining Morty’s pale peach skin.

Stopping to allow Morty to catch his breath and to take his own shirt off, Morty reached forward and touched Rick through his pants.

“Haa…” Morty’s eyes were watery with pain but his flushed, sweaty face was plastered with a goofy grin, “Y-you’re hard… _finally_.”

Rick silently watched as Morty’s hands clumsily undid his fly and pull his dick free from the confines of his tight clothes. Gaping at the huge, uncut, veined and throbbing cock, Morty licked his lips and shot a glance up at Rick, “Please let me suck you off!”

Chuckling at the exuberance, Rick shook his head, “No, but I’ll fuck that sexy mouth of yours.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Rick grabbed Morty by the sides of the face and yanked him forward, thrusting his dick into Morty’s hot, wet mouth. Morty grunted at the intrusion and gagged as Rick forced himself deep into his throat, holding the teen’s face captive as he slowly thrust his dick in and out, grinning at the sounds of Morty whimpering and gagging as his throat was thoroughly used. Morty’s throat was so tight Rick found himself enjoying it a bit too much, and pulled out, pushing Morty backwards onto the bed. He still needed to fuck him senseless.

“Where’s your lube? And don’t you dare tell me you d-don’t have any, Morty.”

Already exhausted, Morty lazily rolled over to fumble with the drawers of his nightstand before emerging with a thick bottle of lube. Rick snatched it out of his hands and with the flick of his wrist, flipped Morty onto his stomach. “Up on all fours.”

Morty shakily obeyed, looking behind him fearfully at Rick. The look on his grandson’s face only served to turn him on more and slicking his fingers with lube, Rick rubbed his fingertips against Morty’s ass, and growled, “What’sa m-matter, huh? T-t-too much for you?”

“N-no…” Morty pouted and stuck his tongue out at Rick, “I-I c-can handle you…just don’t go too fast!”

Rick slipped a finger into Morty and laughed, as he gasped and instinctively pushed back against Rick’s hand, “Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

Dribbling more lube between Morty’s ass cheeks, Rick slid his finger deeper into Morty, pushing it in and out as Morty groaned happily. He added a second finger, slowly moving them apart, stretching Morty’s ass with one hand as he began to rub lube on his dick with the other.

Removing his fingers, Rick held Morty by the hips and teased his entrance with the tip of his cock as Morty wiggled his ass and pushed back against Rick. “G-go ahead Morty. Beg me for cock.”

Morty turned to look over his shoulder, his face red and eyes heavy and glazed over, “Rick p-please fuck me,  _please_!”

Thrusting forward, Rick pushed into Morty slow and steady, stretching him out as he went until his hips were flush against Morty’s ass. He could feel Morty clench around him, and he grit his teeth as he slowly pulled back out before thrusting back in, eliciting a long low moan from deep in Morty’s throat, “Ohhhh…”

Gripping Morty’s hips tightly, Rick began to fuck him with vigor. When Morty ducked his head to bury his face in a pillow, Rick leaned forward and dug his fingers into Morty’s curls, yanking his head up, “No, I want to hear you.”

“Ahh!”

“Yeah,” Grinning as he slammed into Morty again, Rick relished the feel of Morty’s soft curls between his fingers, “Juuust like that, Morty.”

Moving his hand from Morty’s curls down to his groin, Rick jacked him off as he picked up the pace, grunting with the effort as he thoroughly pounded Morty’s ass.

Morty’s strained voice was interrupted by grunts as he plaintively whined, “Riiick—I’m—ah! Rick I’m gonna- _oooh_! I’m gonna cum!”

Rick tightened his grip on Morty’s cock as he pumped, “Yeah, cum for me, Morty. C’mon, baby.”

With a breathy gasp and a shudder, Morty came hard into Rick’s hand, spilling hot spunk onto his bed. Rick thrust into his limp grandson twice more before exploding into him, filling Morty with jizz before slowly pulling out and collapsing on the bed beside the spent teenager. After taking a few minutes to breathe, Rick propped himself up on his elbows to observe his handiwork. Morty was bloody, bruised and sweaty, lying on his side facing Rick, watching him quietly and breathing softly.

Reaching out to gently move a curl from his forehead, Rick studied Morty’s face, “L-let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Morty nodded and smiled softly at Rick, scooting forward and leaning in to plant a sweet kiss to Rick’s mouth. “Y-yeah, Rick.”

A hot shower washed most of the grime away, and cotton balls dipped in antiseptic finished the job. Wrapped in warm pajamas and dotted with bandaids, Morty slept in Rick’s arms as they lay in bed in Rick’s room. Rick watched him as he slept, and ran a gentle finger against the angry red bite mark on Morty’s neck, half covered with a conspicuous bandaid. He closed his eyes and squeezed Morty to his chest, salivating at the memory of Morty’s taste.


	5. Eating Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his violent first time with Rick, Morty is rather reluctant to re-engage with the angry old chef, and angry that Rick was so rough with him. What can Rick do to make it up?

It took fourteen days for the bruises to heal and seventeen days for most of the bitemarks to disappear. But three weeks later, that first bite Rick engraved into the side of Morty’s neck was still a stubborn red-brown ring of toothmarks that at this point, Morty was positive would turn into a scar.

Initially, Morty had worn long sleeve shirts to try and hide the majority of the damage, but within the first two days, the heat of the kitchen prevailed, and Morty was back to his normal tank top. When his shocked and amused coworkers questioned him about the fingertip bruises and bitemarks and copious hickeys that decorated Morty’s pale skin, instead of shriveling with embarrassment, Morty flaunted the wounds and played coy about whom they came from. His gamble paid off; by acting like it was no big deal, and yes he was sexually active, thank you very much, everyone forgot about the marks within the first week, and Morty’s work life returned to normal.

His home life by stark contrast was anything but. When Morty had finally awakened in Rick’s arms hours later that night, he had managed to sneak out of bed and get to the bathroom without his grandfather noticing. His body had been brutalized. Evidence of Rick’s roughness wrapped around almost every inch of skin as Morty had stared at himself in the mirror, and horrified by his appearance, he had returned to his own bed alone. It wasn’t as if he had thought Rick was flawless, far from it, Morty was often on the receiving end of various verbal abuse both in and out of the kitchen. But that scary afternoon bookended by even scarier sex had for the most part frightened Morty off.

If Rick sensed at all that he might have taken things several steps too far, he didn’t indicate it by his behavior, which remained much the same. What he did notice was Morty had ceased flirting with him; so Rick, in his Rick way had filled the void with more sexual innuendo than usual, much to Morty’s consternation. It hadn’t worked. All of Rick’s attempts at kisses or special baked goods or bedtime snuggles were coolly rebuffed.

“Morty!”

Looking up from his steaming cup of homemade chai, Morty squinted blurry, exhausted eyes at the chef and yawned. “Hhhhaahh—Y-yeah, Rick?

“C-c’mon, we-we’re not going to the kitchen today.”

Morty frowned. He had been looking forward to enjoying his tea and then a routine day at the restaraunt. “I’m uhh…I’m good Rick, I just wanna go to work and cook today.”

The coffee maker gurgled pleasantly against the silence as Rick and Morty stared at each other. Rick’s eyes rested on the imprint of his teeth against Morty’s neck, and he clenched his teeth. “M-morty, y-y-you-you gotta come with me today.”

Sipping slowly, Morty watched Rick over the rim of his tea cup, and finishing his drink, he put in the sink and turned to wash the dishes before he left for work, “No, Rick.”

Above the spray of the faucet, Morty could hear Rick’s heavy footsteps approach, but he still jumped slightly when Rick braced his strong hands on either side of the sink, trapping Morty with his body. He was close enough that Morty could feel Rick’s breath on the back of his neck, even though Rick wasn’t actually touching him. As he rinsed his teacup a sudden realiziation occurred to Morty as he rinsed his cup. Since that night Rick actually hadn’t touched him at all. No hi-fives in the kitchen, no shoulder rubs while Morty made dinner, no stern arm grabs to tug him somewhere at the restaurant…nothing.

Morty pressed his lips together. Good. He didn’t want to be touched. The less Rick touched him, the quicker he could get over his feelings for his grandfather.

“Morty.”

Rick’s voice held the customary cigarette-laced growl behind it, but he seemed strained.

“What, Rick.”

“M-morty you’ve worked twenty-three days in a row with no breaks. Y-you can’t work today.”

“I-I’ve taken breaks!” Shoving the teacup onto the drying rack, Morty tried to keep his shrill voice normal. Always a difficult task once he had been caught in a lie. Their days off were usually scheduled together, so for the past few weeks Morty had been finding excuses to leave the house so he wouldn’t be alone with Rick.

“L-last Tuesday when you said you were with Leona you were at the restaurant.” Rick’s gravelly voice and warm breath leaned closer to Morty’s neck, “Two weekends ago y-y-you went with Daija to the intergalactic market for produce. I know you haven’t taken a day off yet, Morty. You’re acting like I don’t know what you get up to.”

Morty squeezed the plate he was washing in his hands. What was it about Rick’s voice that made him sound constantly fucking sexy? He felt Rick’s body heat emanate behind him.

“I know everything, Morty.”

Morty squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck it was hard to not just lean back a few inches into Rick’s chest. “Then y-you know why I’ve been working so much.”

Morty felt and heard Rick’s sigh behind him, “T-to avoid me?”

They both knew it was a rhetorical question. Morty silently continued washing the dishes even though Rick remained in place: hands firmly grasping the edge of the counter, strong arms just inches away from Morty’s side, hunched over Morty’s shoulder.

Finished with the dishes, Morty shook the water off his hands and turned around. Rick was steadily watching him and it took nearly all of Morty’s wherewithal to refrain from embracing him. Getting over his crush was going to be hard if Rick insisted on flirting. Glaring up him, Morty crossed his arms protectively in front of his chest, “Excuse me.”

For a brief moment it didn’t look like Rick was going to back down, but after matching Morty’s stare with a fierce frown of his own, Rick bowed his head and stepped aside. Freed, Morty hurried out of the kitchen and then out the front door. Lately he had even been taking alternative transportation to the restaurant, and one boring bus ride later, he stepped out at the bus stop and walked three blocks to the back door of the kitchen, arriving perfectly at 6:30. Swinging open the door, Morty grinned as he walked into the kitchen.

“Morning!”

“Hey Morty!”

If he wasn’t inside a kitchen, Morty would have screamed in frustration. Rick was standing beside Ahmed at the front oven, chatting calmly and holding a shopping bag from a ritzy department store. He was dressed in an outfit that only Rick could make look good: gray dress slacks with a black v-neck t-shirt and a gray blazer with the arms rolled up. He looked good, and Morty hated that he looked good. Swiveling his gaze around to Ahmed, Morty had a pissy question prepared, but Ahmed beat him to the punch.

“I’m glad you and Rick are going to check out  _Astral_  today. They’re good competition, so we’re lucky we’ve got you and your perfect palate to try their food and see how we’re doing.”

The pissy question died on Morty’s tongue as his jaw dropped open.  _Astral_  was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the galaxy. Located in the center of the Carina Nebula,  _Astral_ boasted a 360 view of the gorgeous stardust that shimmered brilliantly against the void of space. Known primarily for seafood, it was a restaurant Morty had been dreaming of trying for years, but the waiting list was months long, and you had to know somebody to even get on it.

“Y-yeah, we should probably get going.” Rick fist bumped Ahmed and headed straight for Morty, a devilish smirk smeared across his face. “C-c’mon M-morty.”

Following his grandfather back outside to the alleyway, Morty wasn’t sure if he should be pissed off or surprised or  _really_  pissed off.

“Se-se-seriously, Rick? I’m not going with you, I just want to work.”

Rick rolled his eyes, “Morty, I made these reservations months ago. B-b-besides, Ahmed was being serious, we really do need your palate to try out the food at  _Astral_  t-to see what we’re up against. Plus, since we’re food tasting, you  _are_  working.”

Narrowing his eyes, Morty snorted, “Yeah, o-okay, Rick. Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?” Glancing down at his tank top and apron Morty gestured dramatically, “I can’t go like this!”

“Jeez Morty, ever heard of a surprise?” Rick handed Morty the shopping bag as he slipped the portal gun out of his pocket, “I picked something up for you. Go inside and change and then we can go.”

Morty despised himself for simply going along with Rick’s instructions, but what else was he supposed to do? The idea that he would soon be dining at  _Astral_  however was enough to make Morty the tiniest bit excited. Retreating to the bathroom, Morty examined the contents of the shopping bag. Rick had bought him an entire outfit, and judging by the price tags, it hadn’t been a cheap trip. As he changed, it annoyed him that Rick, inconsiderate, thoughtless, asshole Rick had somehow managed to buy him clothes that fit him  _perfectly_. Not only that, but they looked great on him: black dress slacks, a beautiful violet button-up, matching socks and shoes. Turning around in the mirror, Morty tried to frown at himself, but he had to admit—Rick did a good job picking his outfit.

Leaving his clothes in the shopping back in the bathroom, Morty headed back outside where Rick was finishing up his cigarette. He’d never admit it, but Morty got a bit of a thrill as Rick’s eyes widened slightly seeing Morty in dress clothes. He recovered his usual glare, but not before Morty caught his appreciative glance.

“Finally Morty. L-l-let’s go.”

Morty followed Rick into the portal, and a wave of heat rolled over him as he stepped through. Surrounding them for miles in all directions was a gorgeous interstellar beach, dotted wiuth foodships hovering a few inches above the sand.

In awe, Morty spun around in a circle, his eyes bugging out of his face. He had heard about foodship festivals but this one was gigantic. Looking up at Rick he could barely stutter out a question as he looked around, “Wh-wh-where-where are we Rick?”

“Welcome to the Andromeda Foodship Festival, M-morty,” Rick gestured widely at the scene, “C-c-c’mon, I g-gotta run a quick errand before we go to  _Astral_.”

Rick started threading his way through the alien crowd, and for the first time in weeks Morty found himself desperately wanting to hold Rick’s hand. As if sensing Morty was about to get lost, Rick slowed down and walking next to Morty, he politely offered his bent arm as he looked off to the side, “Y-you can take my arm so you don’t get lost…if y-you’d like.”

“Jeez!” Morty pouted, “It’s-it’s not l-like I need to, Rick! Y-you could just walk slower!”

Rick pushed his arm closer, avoiding looking at Morty as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth with the other hand, “I-i-it’s just an offer, Morty.”

Before Rick could walk off, Morty reached out and tentatively took his arm, wrapping his fingers around the inside of Rick’s elbow. Thus joined, Rick lead them through the crowd, stopping at a bright yellow foodship twinkling with lights. As he cut the line, and ignored the throngs of angry shouting, Rick leaned against the counter, winked and chatted up the alien working inside. Somehow, Rick’s insolence worked magic, as the alien handed over two steaming plates covered in red tentacles and syrup.

Walking over to an area with less people, Rick handed a plate to Morty, “Y-y-ya gotta eat these with your hands Morty, b-but they’re delicious, M-morty, the flavor is complex and de-de-delicious.”

Morty pinched a small tentacle in his hand and delicately dropped it into his mouth. A spicy punch of flavor slammed into his mouth and he gasped. It was exquisite. There were at least six different peppers blended perfectly into a sticky red sauce that sank into each and every crevice of the tender, succulent tentacles. Moaning in approval, Morty gobbled up his plate as Rick attached his with similar fervor.

“Oh-oh man, Rick!” Morty swallowed the last of his food and beamed up at his grandfather, “That was amazing!”

Rick chuckled and produced a wad of napkins from his pocket. Handing some off to Morty he used the rest to clean off his hands and face, “That batch was alright; it should be spicier.”

Morty scrubbed his face mostly clean before looking up at Rick who snickered when he saw a huge smudge across Morty’s cheek. “H-hey, c’mere,” Taking a clean napkin he leaned forward and holding Morty steady by the shoulder, he wiped Morty’s face clean.

The tender act surprised Morty, and blushing at Rick’s closeness, he turned his head and shoved him off, “ _Okay_ , okay.” Sticking his hands in his pocket he directed his next question at the beach horizon, “Now what?”

Rick stepped next to Morty and pressed his spread fingertips against Morty’s back so gently the teenager barely felt them, “C-c’mon Morty, I know you wanna check out some other foodships, l-l-let’s explore a little.”

Morty turned to him and scowled, “Fine. But I’ll have you know, I’m  _not_  h-h-having fun.”

“G-got it,” Rick lit another cigarette and stuck it in his mouth with a serious expression, “absolutely no fun.” Ignoring Morty’s yelp of disapproval, he grabbed his grandson’s hand and tugged him toward the rest of the foodships.

He tried. Morty honest and truly tried to be annoyed at Rick, but if there’s one thing a chef loves, it’s good food, and this festival was full of it. Rick managed to cut the majority of lines, and the rest they waited in were filled with Rick’s careful explanations for how certain foods were prepared. Morty was in heaven. When Morty had exhausted every foodship he had wanted to try, and stuffed to the gills with delicious food, he finally flashed a grin at Rick for the first time in weeks.

“That festival was awesome, Rick! Whe-where are we headed next?”

Taking out his portal gun, Rick opened a portal and gestured toward it with his chin, “F-follow me and find out!”

Chasing Rick through the portal, Morty looked up into the skylights of a huge mall. He instantly recognized the décor and realized they were in Centre Cuisine, a huge culinary mall on the outskirts of the galaxy.

“Ohhhh, wow!” Morty spotted Rick smirking at him and he quickly toned down his excitement, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, “I mean, y-y-yeah, it’s  _sort of_  cool.”

Rick actually laughed at that, and taking Morty’s hand again, he pulled him toward the first store, “I g-gotta pick up a few things, but y-y-you should get some new knives too.”

“Oh! Yes, let’s look at the knives!” Morty suddenly stopped and pulled back on his hand, stopping Rick in his tracks, “W-wait. Why are you being nice, Rick?”

Turning to glare at his grandson, Rick clenched his teeth, before forcing a fake smile, “Wh-what, have I not c-called you shithead enough today?” Rick hung on to Morty’s hand and stalked off toward the store, “C’mon, shithead, we g-gotta reservation to keep.”

Morty rolled his eyes and followed along. The mall was incredible and had every single tool and appliance you could think of for cooking. Morty ended up picking out a gorgeous knife set with black and gold handles, but as he went to pay for it, Rick took the knives out of his hands and put them on the counter himself.

“Rick, I can buy them, I-I do have a job you know.”

Rick bumped Morty away from the counter, “You’ll be using these at work s-s-so it’s a work expense, which I will take care of.”

Before Morty could sharply retort that  _no_  these were for cooking at home, he had industry standard chefs knives that were perfectly fine at the restaurant, Rick had already purchased them, and armed with his portal gun, he shot yet another portal and dragged Morty through.

“Our r-reservation is com-comin’ up Morty. We gotta go.”

“Rick, y-you—”

But suddenly, Morty was standing on what looked like the edge of creation itself. The brilliant , dazzling array of stars and colors in the nebula surrounding  _Astral_  were as vibrant and bright as the sunshine. An ocean of light sparkling against the vastness of black space stunned Morty nearly speechless.

“It’s beautiful.”

When Morty looked up at Rick he was stunned further by the genuine smile, “Y-yeah, it is, Morty.”

As they entered the restaurant, Morty switched to professional mode and started examining the restaurant ambiance. Clean but cold. Comfortable and lovely seating. Décor unusual but strangely pretty.

When they were seated at their table, a waiter came by with menus, but Rick handed them right back.

“One of everything; specials included. Meat rare, whole wheat for anything breaded, if anything is alive, I want it killed tableside for my grandson—”

“RICK—”

“Oh,” Rick nodded at Morty, “Y-y-you’re absolutely right; plus two bottles of wine. Let’s dooo…a ch-chardonnay and a nice dry merlot. If the chardonnay is not ice cold I will send it back.”

The waiter smiled faintly if politely, and nodding, he hurried off.

“Rick, wh-what the hell?”

“M-morty, we-we gotta try everything.”

“But that’s—that’s so much!”

Rick chuckled, “D-d-don’t worry, Morty.” He wiggled his fingers at his grandson, “Focus on fooood, Morty.”

When the food came, it was definitely Morty’s focus. Dozens of steaming plates with beautiful meals, some Morty recognized, some which were completely foreign, graced the table with an incandescent aroma. In between mouthfuls of food, Morty mumbled notes about composition, flavor, spice, heat, complexity, neatness, presentation and texture as Rick shoveled food into his mouth with one hand and quickly jotted down Morty’s notes with the other. The food was delectable, but to Rick’s credit, it was a similar level to  _Taste of Infinity_. Their food was excellent, but  _Astral_  wasn’t reinventing the wheel.

“Oh man,” Morty leaned back in his chair, “Do we still have d-dessert coming?”

Rick matched his posture and rubbed his hands over his stomach appreciatively, “H-h-haven’t ordered it yet. Want me t-to call a waiter?”

“Nah…” Morty smiled happily, that had been one of the best dinners of his entire life, “I haven’t had dessert better than what you make, and I d-d-don’t really think  _Astral_  will impress me with their version of lava cake.”

Rick leaned against the table and smirked at Morty, “My dessert is that good, huh?”

Morty shrugged noncommittally and looked away, “It-it’s pretty good, y-yeah.”

After Rick paid the bill, Morty walked alongside him back outside where together they stared at the cosmos once again. Enraptured by the beauty, Morty shyly leaned against Rick, and encouraged when Rick didn’t pull away, he let his hand drop and intertwined his fingers with Rick’s. “Thanks for bringing me to this restaurant, Rick! I-I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“I th-thought you weren’t gonna have fun today?”

Rolling his eyes Morty chuckled, “I was wrong. T-today was really fun.”

Morty looked up into Rick’s glittering eyes just as Rick leaned down toward him and softly pressed a kiss to Morty’s smiling lips. It took Morty about a minute and a half plus the sneaky introduction of Rick’s tongue before he realized he was making out with Rick and with a gasp he shoved Rick off and stepped back.

“Wh-wh-what the  _fuck_  w-was that!?”

Rick furrowed his brow as he stepped toward Morty, “It was a kiss, dipshit.”

“Don’t, n-no!” Morty threw his hands up and waved Rick away, “T-take me home, Rick.”

“What!? M-morty, we—”

“HOME.”

“F-fuck, M-morty,” Rick opened a portal which Morty practically leaped through, and complained as he followed, “Y-y-you c-can’t give me mixed signals a-and expect me to—”

Morty stopped in his tracks in the kitchen. On every counter space, and on the table, and even stacked on some of the chairs were cakes, and cupcakes and brownies and pies and every dessert imaginable, all with purple icing or purple decorations…his favorite color. Whirling to glare at Rick, Morty picked up a cupcake and threw it on the floor, enjoying the splatter of purple across the linoleum.

“What the fuck was th-this, Rick?”

“W-well it  _was_  a blueberry-compote filled chocolate—”

“No,” Morty clenched his fists, “What was—” suddenly he realized, and kneading his forehead with his fingertips, Morty ground out his next question through his teeth, “Rick, was this supposed to be a date?”

Silence. Morty looked up to see Rick, his Rick, Rick the insufferable asshole Rick,  _blushing_. The rosy pink ran across his cheeks and nose, as he attempted to find and light a cigarette with shaking fingers.

“Oh my–y-you brought me fun places, you got me d-d-dressed up, y-you bought me shit–this was a fucking date!”

 Looking up, Rick dragged on his cigarette, and blowing the smoke out he angrily gesticulated with his lighter, “This was me trying to do it right!”

“Do what right?” Morty’s face scrunched into a mask of anger and pain, “Do  _me_ right? Huh? Was that all this was? Y-y-you trying to s-seduce me? Huh? Is ‘doing’ me the only f-fucking thing you’re interested in?”

“Oh please,” Rick tapped the ash of his cigarette onto the floor and rolled his eyes, “As-as if sex with you was the only thing that interested me. G-give me a fucking break, Morty.”

That did it. Morty was incensed. Charging across the room, Morty pulled back and punched Rick in the face with everything he had.

Whether Rick has been punched in the face too many times too count, or Morty’s strength only amounted to several angry kittens, Rick shook off the blow with a mild frown and a raised eyebrow.

“W-wanna try some more?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Morty punched him again, relishing the way Rick’s head snapped to the side from the force of his fist. Unsatisfied Morty hit him twice more, shaking his hand out from the pain. Glaring up at him, Morty ground out, “You’re too fucking tall.”

To his utter shock, Rick spat his cigarette onto the floor, and dropped to his knees before Morty. The hard smack of bone on the floor jarred Morty from his surprise and for a moment he stared at Rick. For a strange change of pace, Morty was looking down into Rick’s big blue eyes. His stomach twisted, and instead of making a fist, Morty backhanded Rick across the face. And again. His hand stinging, Morty shook it out as he cocked his left hand and punched Rick in the nose. The repeated blows, however weak were beginning to take effect but Rick’s swollen face simply stared up at Morty as the teenager heaved with anger. Another hard, open hand slap caught Rick off balance, and he crumpled to the floor.

As Rick got back to his knees he blinked slowly at Morty, “All done?”

“N-no, my hands fucking hurt.”

“Go get something.”

Morty gaped at Rick, “W-what?”

“G-go get a spoon or a pan or something.”

Morty’s anger had almost dissipated, but out of spite, he went and grabbed a heavy wooden spoon they used for thick stews. Walking back to Rick he held the spoon up, almost praying Rick would reach up and stop him. What was he doing?

Instead, Rick closed his eyes and turned his head, offering the unbruised side of his jaw to his grandson. The crack of wooden spoon against jaw was so loud it echoed in the kitchen, and Morty dropped the spoon in shock. It hit the floor simultaneously with Rick as the old man tumbled to the floor for the second time.

“I’m done,  _fuck._ ” Morty choked on his breath, “W-why are you doing this?”

Rick slowly struggled to his feet before pulling a chair out from the table and collapsing into it, “I-I’m only g-g-good at two things, Morty. Baking and taking a beating. I don’t know which one will make you forgive me.”

“Forgive you!?” Morty’s hands went up to his hair, tangled themselves in his curls and tugged in frustration, “J-j-just ask me goddammit!”

“M-morty,”

When Morty looked up he felt his heart thud in his chest and knew in an instant any attempt to get over his fucking asshole was going to be in vain.

“M-morty, forgive me.”

“No!” Morty stomped over to where Rick was seated, “I’m still mad! Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to f-f-f—to fall in love with a stubborn, selfish, t-t-terrible, fucking-fucking y-you suck! You’re the worst Rick, and I hate you.”

“I hate me too.”

“Shut up!” Morty scrubbed at his face—when did he start crying? “I d-don’t hate you Rick, I tried. B-b-but all it f-fucking takes from you is a fucking  _smile_  and I j-j-just UGH!” Morty climbed into Rick’s lap and wrapped his arms around Rick’s middle, resting his head against his chest, “I feel like I’m on fire.”

Rick sighed and held Morty against him, “I don’t know how to love you properly. I’m sorry.”

Morty pulled back to stare at him, “So what now then?”

Rick shrugged and cradled his face in his hands, “Don’t think about it.” And leaned forward to draw Morty’s bottom lip into his mouth to suck hard.

Grabbing the lapels of Rick’s blazer, Morty groaned into the kiss and opened his mouth for Rick’s tongue, giving in to the sweet taste of smoke and wine and  _Rick_.

Morty kissed each of the bruises on Rick’s face, clasping the back of his head, running his fingers through the blue-gray hair and asking Rick over and over if it hurt to which the answer was always no, even though they both knew it was a lie. As he writhed in Rick’s lap, Morty was only dimly aware of Rick’s nimble hands pulling away the back of his pants from his body, but his eyes snapped open with Rick’s long fingers suddenly squeezed themselves between Morty’s ass and deposited a swath of something warm and sticky.

“Rick!”

Grinning, Rick pulled Morty down for another kiss, “Sorry, I had frosting on my fingers.” Picking him up, Rick bent Morty against the table and kissed the back of his neck as he undid Morty’s slacks and let them drop to the floor.

Morty arched his back at the cool air as his boxers joined his slacks in a pool of material around his feet. Rick was on his knees for the second time that night and pulling apart Morty’s butt cheeks, without warning or fanfare, he buried his face.

“OOOH!” Annoyed at himself for so loudly appreciating the service, Morty grabbed a cupcake from the table and shoved it into his mouth to prevent moaning. It didn’t work. The rim job and the cupcake were both so good, a guttural groan ripped its way out of Morty’s throat.

“Mmm…” Rick reached around and grasped Morty’s already-hard cock in his hand as he pushed deeper and buried himself up to his cheekbones in sixteen year old ass. The frosting mixed with Morty’s sweat tasted like fucking ambrosia. Everything about Morty was intoxicating: his smell, his feel, his cute voice stuttering and swearing like an idiot, his fucking  _taste_. Rick was an addict, and he didn’t give a shit. All his brain could register was the many, many,  _many_  ways he wanted to devour this boy before him.

“Nnng—Rick!”

It had only been a few minutes and Rick knew that voice. He’d have to train Morty to get that stamina up. “Mmhm?”

“Ahh-Rick, I’m—Oh! Rick, Please, I’m-I’m bout to cum!”

Rick wrenched his face out of Morty’s ass, and grabbing him by the hips, spun him around to face him, before grabbing the teenager’s cock once more and jacking him off.

Morty came with a shudder, bracing his hands on Rick’s shoulders as he blew his load into Rick’s open mouth. Leaning back against the table, naked below the waist, Morty gazed down at Rick as he tried to get his breathing to return to normal. Rick’s face was a fucking mess of swollen bruises, and purple frosting, and drool, and strings of white cum that had missed his mouth. Morty grabbed him by the hair and dragged him up to stand again, pressing his open mouth against Rick’s with abandon, tasting frosting and his own ass and cum on Rick’s tongue.

Chuckling Rick held Morty tightly into the kiss before pulling back and pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Please sleep with me tonight.”

A request. Not a demand, not a rhetorical question, not an expectation or an order. Morty leaned into him, licking frosting off his lips, maybe there was hope after all…?

“Y-yeah, Rick.”


	6. Mini Morty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty agrees to do a "little" favor for Rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Microphilia is featured in this fic. My first time writing it, hopefully it's alright.

“C’mon Morty, d-do it for your ol’ grandpa.”

Morty frowned and glared up at Rick as the latter shook a pill bottle back and forth in front of his face. Morty was trapped against a table in the restaurant kitchen as Rick boxed him in with his body. This wasn’t even the first time Rick had cajoled Morty into popping random pills at his request.

“Rick, I don’t know…” Morty felt his stomach twist…Rick was giving him the _look_ and it was becoming hard to hold out, “How long do the effects last?”

“Six to eight hours,” Rick paused and his eyes wandered to the ceiling as he reconsidered, “It might be less since you have a quick metabolism.”

Ignoring the sweet smell of butter cream frosting and nicotine drifting off of Rick’s skin, Morty pressed his lips together, “I dunno Rick…”

“C’mon Morty, I really need you to do this.” Leaning closer, Rick smirked, “Unless…you’re angling for me to _make_ you do it…”

Morty tried to disguise the blood rushing to his cheeks by coughing awkwardly into his elbow. It was true; lately Morty had developed a ‘thing’ for the power dynamics evident in every aspect of his relationship with Rick. Not only was Rick Morty’s senior by more than fifty years, he was his boss in the restaurant, his mentor as a young chef, and his legal guardian. Not to mention he was more experienced than Morty in almost every facet imaginable. Morty had spent many nights staring up at the ceiling and wondering if it was wrong that he got off on Rick lording his power over him, but Rick and his magical mouth had mostly convinced Morty that it was fine because although Rick was most assuredly the dominant figure in their relationship, more often than not Morty was on the receiving end of service.

“No, I’m not…not sneaky like that, Rick!”

Rick’s smirk deepened, and although they were in the kitchen, surrounded by coworkers, he pressed his groin up against Morty’s and subtly ground into him as he dropped his voice to whisper, “If y-you don’t cooperate Morty, I’m gonna put you up on your hands and knees on this table,” he reached around Morty to tap the edge of the table—an excuse to get even closer, “and I’m going to lube you up and I’m gonna have Ahmed help me figure out how many spoon handles we can fit inside your asshole.”

Morty whimpered as his throat tightened at the mental picture. Rick caught the tiny noise and snickered as he dropped his voice lower still, “I think the magic number is twelve…but maybe you’ll—”

“Al _right_!” Morty rubbed his hot face with his hands and glared at Rick, “Th-that is-is so unfair Rick!”

Rick shrugged and grabbed Morty by the hand, leading him to the backroom of the kitchen, businesslike once again now that he got his way, “I’m gonna have you take these back here because it can be kind of a w-weird experience your first time.”

Morty followed along, his stomach doing flip-flops as he contemplated what he had just agreed to. It was a big galaxy, and aliens didn’t always come in the human-or-bigger sized variety; as it happened, several royal members of a tiny race of aliens, no taller than six inches high, had reservations at the restaurant, and the chef that Rick usually depended on to create miniscule meals had taken a job at another restaurant a month prior. As with every last-minute development, Morty was stuck picking up the slack.

Rick closed the door behind them and shook two neon orange pills into his palm before handing them over to Morty along with a bottle of water. “Swallow these, then take your clothes off and wait.”

Morty’s eyes snapped up to Rick accusingly, “Why do I need to take my clothes off!?”

Rick’s finger tips pressed firmly against Morty’s mouth as he narrowed his eyes, “O-okay first, check that tone be-before your mouth writes a check your body can’t cash; a-a-and second, when you shrink down, your clothes aren’t gonna shrink with you. Shrinking living creatures versus inanimate objects are too completely different procedures that—” Rick paused, shook his head, and pointed at a nearby chair, “I don’t have time to explain my processes to a punkass prep cook, get your shit off, give it to me, and then wait here while I shrink your uniform down.”

Morty brushed Rick’s hand off his face and stuck his tongue out, scampering away as Rick made a move to grab him. “Hey, hey, okay!” Removing his apron and tank top, Morty was keenly aware of Rick’s eyes on him as he removed his clothes. He threw the two articles of clothing at Rick, smacking him in the face as he began undoing the front of his pants, “Perv. Y-you’re staring pretty hard, Rick. Wanna take a picture?”

“I already have.”

Morty’s hands stilled as he stared in shock and surprised pleasure at the revelation, “Y-you have!?”

Rick snapped his fingers, “Hey, apúrate you little brat, we have work to do.”

Morty slid out of the rest of his clothes, and handed them over along with his shoes. Completely naked and exposed, Morty nervously looked over at the door behind Rick and chewed his lip. “Y-you’re not gonna be gone long, are you?”

“God.” Rick turned on his heel and began walking out of the room, “Don’t worry Morty, people aren’t feening to get a glimpse of a scrawny little naked teenager.”

“You are.” Morty shot back, before laughing and quickly closing the door after his grandfather as an irritated Rick turned back around to respond physically to that last jab.

Alone in the room, Morty plunked down on the chair and to his astonishment, almost immediately felt his body begin to tingle. Those pills worked quick. Morty had imagined that being shrunk down to a fraction of his regular size would be unpleasant, and he was half right. A strange pulling sensation rippled through his limbs, but instead of the feeling of being pulled away from his body, the tugging seemed to originate from his abdomen, and as he watched in awe, sure enough, his extremities slowly began to migrate toward his abdomen, even as the chair around him, the table beside him and the room in general began to rapidly increase in size. The process lasted less than a minute, and suddenly Morty found himself standing naked in the middle of the largest chair he had ever seen in his entire life. Judging by the size of the chair legs, Morty guessed that he was maybe five inches tall, and it gave a whole new meaning to Rick’s occasional nickname for him: shawty.

Morty jumped when he heard the door open. Sounds were amplified quite a bit at this size. As he turned to look up at Rick he felt a rush of blood flood to his crotch. Rick towered over him, massive and imposing. Although he was supposed to cook a very important meal, very soon, for very important people, the only thing Morty could think about was how very, very, _very_ big Rick’s tongue was now that he was this size.

“Ha,” Rick chuckled as he looked down at his tiny grandson, “Sup, shawty?”

Morty rolled his eyes. Called it. “Hey uh, c-can I have my clothes now?”

“Sure, but let’s get you onto the table, the surface is flatter for you.”

Rick’s mammoth hand darted out and Morty yelped as it cupped behind him and scooped him up unexpectedly. Rick’s eyes widened, “Oh M-morty, did I hurt you!?”

“No, I—” Morty lost his footing and grabbed hold of Rick’s thumb, squeezing it to his chest for support, “Just surprised me! Y-you’re uh…” Morty often thought it was unwise to admit certain things to Rick since he typically used them as fuel to torture Morty later, but as the sudden realization of just how small dawned on him, he figured he should be honest, “Y-you’re just kind of uh…frightening…this big.”

“Baby.” Rick leaned forward, and Morty yelped in surprise once more as Rick’s long pointed nose pushed forward and nuzzled his body with as much force as a St. Bernard. “L-less scary now? Don’t worry Morty, I’ll make sure you’re okay today. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Depositing his grandson on the table and dropping the newly shrunk clothes beside him, Rick stretched his shoulders, “Get changed and I’ll carry you to the kitchen. Mip is setting up a little station for you to work at.”

When Morty had finished changing, Rick scooped him up once again, and Morty clung to the giant knuckles as Rick’s fingers gently wrapped around his body and carried him out into the main kitchen. Mip waved his four arms with a flourish as they approached. In the middle of one of the cooking stations, a tiny little stove heated by Zippos was surrounded by an assortment of mouse-sized stainless steel cookware and utensils. Morty twisted his head to look up at Rick, “Why do you have all this stuff?”

“P-pretty prejudiced aren’t ya, Morty,” Rick carefully set Morty down in the middle of the mini cooking station, “Tiny aliens need to eat too!”

Morty ignored his tone and began organizing his temporary work station to fit his preferences as Rick rattled off some general instructions on cooking for these guests, and then left Morty to begin prepping.

Besides a rather large drop of alfredo being splashed on him, and getting cleaned off by Leona holding him beneath a faucet to be soaked through, the night went smoothly, the royal guests loved their food, and Morty was riding high as the restaurant closed up for the night.

“Ready to g-get going, pipsqueak?”

Morty looked up at the huge, looming figure of Rick standing beside his station. Putting away the last of his teeny tiny dishware, Morty wiped his hands on his apron and nodded, “Yep!”

Rick’s fingers darted forward and snatched Morty up off the table, dropping him into a breast pocket as Rick waved at Ahmed and headed out into the cool night air. Bouncing around the pocket with a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a crumpled piece of paper that listed sugar measurements, Morty managed to get to his feet, and gripping the side of the pocket, yelled up at Rick, “Jeez Rick, c-could you at least warn me before grabbing me like that?”

Rick glanced down at the small bundle of hormones and energy riding in his pocket and chuckled, “Relax Morty, i-it’s not like I’m gonna drop you. Hand me a cig?”

The ride home was relatively quiet, but rather smoky for Morty, and he was relieved when they arrived home and he could breathe fresh air again. Stepping into the kitchen, Rick fished Morty out of his pocket and carefully set him on the table before pulling out and lighting another cigarette.

As they had both eaten dinner already at the restaurant, Rick sat down at the table and quietly observed Morty, politely blowing smoke in the opposite direction, “I’d say y-you’ve got maybe an hour…maybe less before the pills wear off. W-we gotta wait till you’re back to your original size before bed because I need to make sure the effects fully wear off.”

“Oh uh..okay.” Morty awkwardly looked across at Rick who was puffing away on his cigarette and staring at Morty with those big blues.

“Y-you wanna watch the _Two Brothers_ prequel _Before Bro_?”

Morty shifted back and forth on his feet. That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do, but despite having been in a sexual relationship with Rick for a few months now, it was still occasionally difficult to plainly ask for what he wanted. “I uh…well, I-I thought maybe I c-c-could have some f-fun or something since I’m…y’know, since I’m shrunk maybe I could do some things I can’t when I’m normal sized…?”

Rick raised an eyebrow, “Uhh...l-like what Morty?”

Morty fidgeted more, “Uh…j-just y’know, s-s-stuff I-I—” Morty’s mouth jumbled over the words. Goddammit, Rick had fucked him so many times at this point why was it still so difficult to ask for it!?

Luckily, Rick is a genius, and when he realized what Morty was trying and failing to ask for, he barked laughter and blowing out a final puff of smoke, he put out his cigarette and leaned on his arms as he watched Morty with a cat-like gaze, “‘Stuff’ huh, Morty?”

Morty’s face flushed red and darting a glance up at Rick he nodded quickly.

Rick laughed again and with his finger he gently ‘booped’ Morty in the chest. There was enough force behind the affectionate poke that Morty fell backward onto his ass, and Rick took the opportunity to press his finger against Morty’s chest and push him down to the table, pinning him.

“I thought you said y-you were scared of me this size?”

“W-well I-I am a little bit…” Morty tried to push off Rick’s finger, but it firmly pushed him down harder and Morty huffed in irritation, “Y’know, it’s scary b-b-but kind of…I dunno Rick, thrilling? I uh…” Morty turned his face to look away, “I kind of… _sort_ of…like it when you’re pushy—” Morty heard Rick snicker and snapped his head back to glare, “—only sometimes!!”

Rick kept Morty pinned to the table, but his middle finger slowly brushed down the length of Morty’s abdomen, pausing briefly wiggle against his crotch as Morty groaned in his throat.

“It’s cute that you have a kink for extreme power dynamics, babe.”

“It’s not a kink!” Morty crossed his legs, blocking Rick’s intrusive finger, “I j-just—I just have a thing for it…and only sometimes.”

Rick licked his lips and moved his middle finger to tickle Morty in the ribs, smiling as Morty giggled and protested, “M-my subby little twink.”

“Hey!” But Morty’s protest was quelled by Rick’s finger moving up to press very gently against his mouth.

“You gotta promise if you get uncomfortable y-you’ll tell me Morty.” Rick’s expression grew serious, “I don’t want to hurt you by accident.”

Morty moved his finger and smirked, “Only on purpose, right?”

Laughing, Rick nodded, “Y-you got it, M-morty.” His quick fingers tugged at Morty’s clothes, and like a squirming little Barbie doll, Morty was effortlessly pulled out of his clothes.

“Rick!” Morty grimaced as he heard a seam rip on his apron, “Th-that was—” Rick’s face suddenly leaned in, and with puckered lips he kissed Morty soundly. Rick’s lips were so large in comparison, his puckered mouth covered Morty from his chin to his stomach, and the teenager felt his boner twitch impatiently as Rick’s warm lips pressed kisses to his bare skin. “Ohhhhh…”

“Mmmmmm….” Rick hummed, his lips vibrating against his tiny grandson. He scooped Morty into his cupped hands and leaned back in his seat, keeping his lips closed and tightly pressed to the squirming, naked, and delightedly giggling teenager.

“I-I-I—oh! I-” Morty gasped and sputtered as the very tip of Rick’s tongue flicked out and teased his groin for a half second before disappearing behind closed lips again. He hummed, and the vibrations rattled Morty down to his bones. “Rick—I—oh jeez, Rick slow down or-or ohh!”

Rick pulled away and glared, “Nu-uh, M-morty, we just started!”

Morty shuddered against Rick’s hot palm beneath him and groaned—he couldn’t help himself—he crawled up half an inch to the cleft of Rick’s first and middle finger and sticking his dick between them, began humping away like a dog in heat.

“You little—” Rick picked up Morty with the thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand and held him aloft, scowling at him, “L-listen Morty, I already told you y-you gotta improve your stamina. Don’t just cum when you feel it, hold it in for a minute, damn!”

“Ah,” Morty shrugged and reached down to touch himself, “But it feels good!”

Rick growled, “If you cum before I give you permission, you have to do the dishes every night.”

Morty opened his mouth to respond, but Rick beat him to it—

“Naked.”

“I—”

“And I’ll make sure to cook extremely messy dishes every night.”

“Ughh okay!” Morty released his cock and glared back at Rick, “Y-y-you g-gotta control everything Rick?”

“Yes.” Rick cupped Morty in his hands again and this time slid his tongue out and licked Morty from the tips of his toes to his shoulders.

“Ahhh—” Morty quivered at the sensation. Rick’s tongue was easily half his size, and as it slithered hot, wet and covered in the most tantalizing little bumps, Morty had to dig his nails into his palms to try not to bust early. Rick pinned his arms back with his thumbs, and opening his mouth wider, he gave new meaning to his favorite activity of ‘tonguing Morty down.’

“Rick!” Morty wriggled helplessly as Rick’s tongue dove into his every crevice and worked his cock to a dizzying degree. Panting, Morty pouted at Rick, “N-n-nowww y-you’re just trying harder to get me off so-so I do dishes you asshole!”

“Oh!” Rick’s eyes widened and he smiled devilishly down at Morty, “Thanks for reminding me!”

He flipped Morty around in his hands, and bent him over his finger before bringing Morty backward up to his open mouth.

“Nnnngg—” Morty didn’t bother trying to remember vowels as Rick’s tongue licked him cleaner than he’d ever been in his entire life. The wicked tip of Rick’s tongue wedged tightly between his ass and diddled back and forth as Morty shrieked in ecstasy and tried desperately to hold on. The moment Rick’s thumb nudged  Morty’s legs apart however, and the soft pad rubbed him juuuust right, Morty didn’t bother with a warning and instead exploded onto Rick’s hand, spent, shaking, and dripping with saliva.

Rick flipped him over again and grinned triumphantly as Morty quivered in the palm of his hand and gazed up at him with bleary eyes and a sweaty, flushed face. “Dish duty all week muthafuckaaa!”

Morty weakly flipped Rick off and groaned, “Yeah, yeah, Rick.” Rick carefully laid Morty on the table and then snaked his hand down to readjust himself. Morty caught the movement and sprang up, “Show me!”

Rick chuckled, “Y-yeah slut?” He unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor. Shuffling closer to the edge of the table where Morty lay, he pulled his dick out and had to bite back a laugh as Morty’s eyes bulged.

Rick’s dick was so big Morty could feel his mouth drop open, but quickly shut it, cursing himself inwardly for giving Rick something else to tease him over. Standing up, Morty stared at Rick’s dick silently for a moment, before wrapping his arms around his length and kissing the head. At this size, there wasn’t much he could do beyond grind himself against Rick and press sloppy wet kisses the size of pinpricks to Rick’s, well, prick.

“It’s—mm—” Rick tugged at his hair as he struggled to keep from thrusting forward and throwing Morty off by accident, “I’m g-gonna start slipping these pills into your breakfast Morty, you’re too –nnn—too fucking cute.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Morty suddenly staggered backward and fell onto the table, staring at his arms in curiosity.

The pills had abruptly began to wear off, and Morty’s stomach lurched as his arms and legs rapidly began to stretch back out to their normal size and his weight shot back up. Just as quickly as before, Morty was his normal size again, laying spread out on the kitchen table, still soaking wet from the waist down in slimy Rick saliva. Picking his head up off the table, Morty looked over at Rick, and reaching down, he pulled his ass apart and stuck his tongue out, “W-w-well what are you waiting for? Am I n-not cute anymore now that I’m big again?”

Rick lunged over Morty, bracing one hand beside Morty’s head as the other wrapped around his own cock. He teased Morty’s entrance with the tip and winked at his grandson, “You’re not big, but you are still cute.”

Morty blushed and giggled shyly at the compliment which made Rick snort and angling himself properly in front of Morty’s dripping asshole, he thrust home and growled, “God, giggling like a little girl.” He bit his lip as his cock encouraged the sweetest moans to spill out of Morty’s gasping pink mouth. He leaned close to Morty’s face and growled as he braced both hands beside Morty’s head, “Bitch, you better not blush like that for anyone but me.”

“Aaahhnn—”

“Huh, sugar?” Rick pounded into Morty, watching him bounce back and forth against the table as he fucked him hard, “Who does this ass belong to?”

Morty was all smiles as he blushed again and beamed up at Rick, “Mmm—I belong to you!” Throwing his arms around Rick’s neck, he yanked him down into an urgent, sweet kiss.

Rick hummed again into the kiss, opening his mouth to welcome the playful little slip of Morty’s tongue darting in and out. Reaching down to clench Morty’s thighs, he broke the kiss and leaned up, pulling out further with each thrust, slamming into Morty as the teenager squealed with delight.

“Rick! Ahhhh—Rick I’m gonna—oooh!” Morty arched his back and groaned as he came for the second time in less than an hour.

“Ohhh, f-fuck you, Morty.” But the sight of Morty, wet and sweaty with a splash of cum decorating his stomach was unbelievably erotic, and after only another minute, Rick grit his teeth and dug his nails into Morty’s thighs as he came hard.

Pulling out, Rick took a step backward and slumped into the kitchen chair, catching his breath as Morty curled his legs up further onto the table. Together they breathed in the silent kitchen.

“Soooo,” Rick pulled out a cigarette, lit it, dragged and breathed out the smoke as he continued, “How was it?”

Morty twisted to lay on his side as he stared at Rick, “P-pretty good.”

Another drag, another exhale, “C-c’mon Morty, y-you’re never gonna be the bigger man physically, so you gotta be the bigger man metaphorically. Admit I just took you on a fucking ride.”

“Ugh, _fine_.” Morty tried not to grin, but a toothy smile worked its way around his mouth anyway. “I was good too!”

Rick chuckled, “Y-you just had to lay there and take it. Hardly a performance.”

“Yeah,” Morty cracked a smile, “But I know you enjoyed yourself. The best things come in small packages anyway!”

Rick groaned and then scolded Morty to go get a bottle of wine for such an awful joke.


End file.
